The Robber And The Princess
by smallhope
Summary: Her name is Rosa and she is the Sheriff's daughter. She has been devoted to Robin Hood for some time, and even saved his life, but he doesn't know any of this. She goes to meet him disguised as a boy. Please R&R. Thanks.
1. Chapter 1: The Boy

The Robber and The Princess

CHAPTER 1

THE BOY

It was around dusk when they brought the boy before him. He looked not a day older than fifteen years and pretty innocent. There were no signs of a struggle for his simple peasant clothes were intact, as was his rather slight person.

Robin Hood looked into the boy's eyes, as he always did when sizing up a stranger, and was surprised to find sincerity in there and perhaps a bit of urgency. Another thing he was surprised to find was that the lad's eyes were of a deep emerald colour, thus complimenting the coppery hair that escaped his grey hood, and they appeared out of proportion large and quite beautiful.

Meanwhile the boy didn't seem to eagerly take in his strange surroundings, as did most anyone who was invited to the Merry Men camp in the heart of Sherwood Forest. On the contrary, he seemed intend on observing and even memorizing every detail of the Master's face. So mesmerized did he appear, that Robin had to laughingly ask him twice about his name.

"My name is Stuart and I work in the castle yonder, good sir", he said, with a voice that sounded surprisingly gentle and a pronunciation that was suspiciously clear. His appearance however stated clearly his humble origins and Robin concluded that the young lad had taken to imitating the speech of his elders.

Looking into large, impatient eyes, he smiled and said kindly:

"Listen, lad, you are too green to join my band of Merry Men. Honored as we all are, I am sure, I would have you come back a few years hence with a couple of summers on your back and then we will talk about you becoming an outlaw. Until then go help your father and be wary of the evil Sheriff in whose service your family is, I understand." For the "castle yonder" the youth had referred to was the residence of the much-hated and much-feared Sheriff of Nottingham.

"No, no! Sir, that is not the reason I seeked you out."

"'Sir'? You are aware I am no gentleman, boy, are you not?" He raised a dark eyebrow in mock surprise.

"You are to me, sir."

Now both eyebrows went up and in Robin's intelligent eyes the flicker of a doubt appeared.

"What do you want then, Stuart of the Castle?"

The boy smiled in delight at this informal christening.

"I wanted to speak with you, to warn you."

"To warn me! Now that is a bold aspiration for one of your years. Come, sit with us while we wait for the meal to be prepared."

The boy sat quietly, his eyes taking in everything, while Robin Hood went around the camp, greeting his men and asking about their deeds during the day. They all knew that they had to wait until after the meal to hear of their leader's own adventures. Soon enough he came to where Stuart was seated and offered him a drink of water.

Stuart accepted it and started:

"You see sir when one lives at the castle, one cannot help hearing things, especially if one tries." He smiled mischievously. "So I heard something today, which I think may –must be of interest to you. I believe the Sheriff intends to pay a visit to the nearby town of Lewes in the next day or so."

"And when you say visit, you mean, tax collecting and administering a few beatings…"

"And burning a few homes, yes."

"Good Lord, I thought we had finished with these visits for this month. Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, sir."

"I find the fact that you call me sir a but unnerving, Stuart of the Castle." Robin's eyes were sparkling with humour, but there seemed to be sincerity in his words, as well. "And you claim to have gathered this information from the proximity of the…"

"Stables." His voice sounded a bit unsure, but Robin looked in the boy's eyes, and they seemed clear like water from a spring. They had an odd colour he noticed, a very exceptional green color, and an even more unique shape. He would grow up to become a handsome man, he thought. That was a strange thought to strike him at the moment, but the youth seemed to have already found a place in his heart.

Too bad there was no way he could believe him.

"Come on, Stuart. Let's get something to eat. You will find that our cooking may excel even that of our good Sheriff's kitchens."

"Thank you, sir, I am sure it is. It certainly should be better for the heart, at any rate."

Robin turned to look at the boy in surprise for the third time in the course of the evening. He could have sworn that it was not possible for such a young mind to contain such deep thoughts on the world. But somehow it was.

"But since I have nothing more to tell you, I think it would be best if I were to go back before I was missed." With these words, the boy stood up to leave, a serene smile of satisfaction on his lovely face.

Suddenly the thought was unbearable to Robin that this fragile youth should have to brave the dangers of the forest amid the gathering darkness.

"I'll take you", he said before he had time to think.

Stuart's eyes seemed to have gotten incredibly round with surprise and alarm.

"No!" he almost shouted.

"What I say goes here, little boy. This is my territory, I will have you know."

"I know it is your territory, Robin Hood. But you would be a fool to even consider going near the direction that I am going."

He liked the sound of his name on the boy's lips. Odd, that. Anyway, he somehow had to persuade him to accept his protection. His feelings of protectiveness allowed him to do no less.

"Come, I will take you only as far as is safe, I promise."

They rode in silence for a while, and then the boy spoke:

"I can't believe I did it!"

His voice sounded so enthusiastic and childlike, that Robin couldn't help but smile.

"Did what?" he asked.

"I managed to come to you and warn you. I may have saved all those poor people!"

Robin pulled on the reins of his horse and put out a hand to his companion's horse, too.

"I don't say that it wasn't incredibly brave of you to seek out a band of outlaws in the forest. But whoever sent you, you should let them know about the foil of their plans." He tried to sound gentle, for somehow he was loath to quench the excitement he heard in the lad's voice. However he was angry at those who picked a mere boy as their envoy fro the trap they meant to set him. It was the act of a coward and a sloth and it infuriated him. "I have to say though; this is not a very promising beginning for the life of a youth such as you. I hope in future you can choose your advisors more carefully."

The boy that called himself Stuart looked at Robin, incredulity written on his face. Then, as understanding slowly dawned on him, he said in a trembling voice, as if he had difficulty crediting the words himself:

"You… you don't believe me!"


	2. Chapter 2: Partners

CHAPTER 2

PARTNERS

Robin laughed aloud, his mirth echoing in the darkness.

"What kind of a leader would I be if I naively lead my men into every trap that was laid out for us? Do not look so out of sorts, lad. I tell you, I should have done a lot more than laugh at your expense. Don't push your luck now."

The boy turned to look at him full in the face. Robin was taken aback by the deep sadness he saw in the boy's eyes. It was unprecedented that he would be so much disturbed by a petty little traitor, but so it was. He was silent for a moment, as the youth's gaze bore into his very soul, it seemed, and the boy struggled for words amid his frustration.

"It never occurred to me that you would doubt my sincerity, my devotion to you", the boy finally said, in a somber tone that belied his years. "I suppose that is daft. It's just…. I risked so much and faced such…. well, I didn't have time to worry about how to persuade you."

"What were you going to say? Just there, you faced… what?" all the pity was gone from his voice now and he was genuinely intrigued.

"If I told you about everything that has lead me here, you would truly believe me. But… you have been my hero for years. I have admired you and thanked God for you and now I saw you face to face for the first time and you are even more magnificent than you appeared from afar. But then you don't even believe me. I understand you cannot be too trusting, but I had hoped that all the evil you fight against has not robbed you of being human yourself. So I will not say anything that will force you to give credit to my sayings. I am sure you will find a way to save those people from serious danger, if only you want to. You have the information and you have seen my face as I gave it to you. You judge for yourself what my reasons were for coming to you."

Before Robin could even begin to take in everything Stuart had told him, the boy had disappeared. Robin looked for a glimpse of the lad's grey horse among the thick leaves but it seemed the few moments that he had been lost in contemplation of what the boy had just said were enough for him to gallop soundlessly into the night.

Robin snorted and turned his horse around. He was at the camp shortly, and the rich meal had already been prepared. However, Robin didn't even taste the delicious meat, for his mind was rapidly thinking over what the boy with the alluring eyes had told him.

Rosa cautiously walked down the narrow corridor that lead to the stairs. She had quickly changed from her boyish clothes in the stables, but still her appearance was quite disheveled and she didn't want to bump into anyone, especially her father. For when the Sheriff of Nottingham was not planning for ways to accumulate wealth or to use his already existing to enlarge his stomach, he was looking for more clues to prove her treachery.

Not that he didn't have good enough reasons to suspect her loyalties of lying with his greatest enemy, the outlaw Robin Hood, but she had somehow managed to persuade him that the incident that had happened a year and a half ago and that had nearly cost her her life, had been an accident. Now she had to be very careful, because he had made it clear to her that he didn't consider the dungeons too good a place for his daughter is she was guilty of betrayal.

Now Robin Hood was another matter entirely. He almost certainly should know that that long-ago incident had been anything but an accident, but thankfully, in the midst of all the commotion he hadn't recognized her. It was probably stupid not to have told him it was her that had saved him from certain death at that time, especially since he had practically asked her to give him a reason to trust her. Or him, for she had been a boy a few hours ago, when she had parted from him.

However, she had this insane wish, namely that he should trust her, or "Stuart", because he had seen her and not because she had given him proof of her devotion. There was no way now that the poor people of Lewes would be rescued, and her heart ached at this thought as much as at the thought that her hero had laughed in her face.

Now she felt really exhausted and hurried as quietly as she could to her rooms up the stairs.

But she wasn't going to get off so easily.

"Daughter!" her father's voice boomed across the hallway.

"I am here, father."

He was seated in front of a generous fire, a couple of council men around him, their eyes gleaming with snobbery and greed, as always. Rosa was grateful of the darkness, as the dull glow of the fire was not enough for her strange appearance to be obvious to them.

"What have you been about?" her father pressed on his tiresome inquiries. "While we have been discussing serious matters of the estate, you have been sneaking out in traitorous quests, have you? Oh, sweet Mary, why have I been cursed with such a daughter?"

Rosa tried to hide her disgust. Her father always included holy names in his speeches, for he thought it endeared him to the people. Even now, in the same sentence that called his daughter a curse.

"I only took a stroll in the gardens", she said innocently but firmly. "I am fatigued now and will leave you good sirs to conclude your business."

No one stopped her and she practically ran to her chamber. She opened the west window and tried to discern the fringes of the Sherwood Forest among the darkness. It had contained all her hopes for a long time. It also contained an outlaw whose eyes nightly haunted her dreams, but who had just this evening crushed all of them, with just a toss of his handsome head and an enchanting laugh that still rang in her ears.

A tear tricked down her cheek, but she didn't notice.

Morning came much too soon it seemed, and upon hearing her father was away, Rosa took her place on the terrace, watching in the direction of the small village of Lewes and waiting for the thin column of smoke to tell her that her father's business in it had been successful. As a cold breeze ruffled her hair, she struggled not to look in the direction of the forest that stood, proud and lush and green, right ahead.

A few long hours passed, however, and she saw nothing. Chilled, she decided to come down and ask if there had been any news. She had never remembered her father ever taking so long once he had made up his mind. Usually, the village was burnt to the ground almost as soon as he got there.

Downstairs, chaos greeted her. Servants were hurrying about, carrying water and other utensils, some of them running in panic from the section that was the Sheriff's large bedroom, where the Sheriff himself could be heard, shouting profanities and throwing things every which way. Rosa quickly stepped out of the way for her favorite maid Helena was rushing to her father's room, carrying white cloths. Helena gave her a look that told her things were bad right now, but she would explain afterwards.

Suddenly, Rosa understood.

This scene had been played out many times of late years in her father's castle.

Whenever the Sheriff returned from similar expeditions, or even from an outing in the forest, he would invariably come back wounded and humiliated and thwarted. And the reason for that was one man and his band of merry men. Rosa could barely contain her delight and happiness. He had believed her after all!

"I knew your heart would win out in the end, sweet Robin", she whispered, as her eyes misted.

After that, they became partners. Rosa would ride out in the forest at twilight, exchange information and warnings with him, and perhaps a cup of golden ale. At one time, she even warned him of a trap the Sheriff's men were about to set in the forest. It finally turned out that they fell in the trap themselves. Those moments, when they all sat laughing around the fire in Robin's merry camp and the men took turns relating to her the humiliation of the Sheriff's men, were the best of her life. She had come to know most of the men, now. She knew all of their names, some strange-sounding and belying of great tales, but it seemed there were some that stood out, like Will Scarlet, the artist, who also seemed to be like a brother to Robin. Will Stutly, Gilbert of the White Hand, Alan-a-Dale, who also played the harp and both the Miller's sons. And of course that bear of a man, Little John, who never once left his beloved Master's side. They all called their leader by his name, and a few called him Chief, or such. But Rosa could never bring herself to call him anything but 'sir'. He seemed to her much more of a noble gentleman than the men who frequented her father's domains. Indeed he was a prince compared to every other man.

But always she came back before they had eaten and always Robin rode with her until the castle came in sight.

It seemed like she was living two lives. And definitely the one she lived as Stuart of the Castle was the better of the two. For as Stuart she could walk beside Robin Hood; listen to his incredible tales; watch his eyes sadden as he heard of the peril his men ran into daily; drink in his whole-hearted laugh; and be of very small and yet significant help to him.

She didn't worry about her secret becoming known to the band of outlaws, for she never stayed long enough in their camp. She constantly told herself not to become careless. She knew she would lose all of this if they ever found out she was a woman. And Robin's fragile trust in her would surely vanish forever if it became known she was the daughter of his worst enemy.

Circumstances would arise soon, however, when things would spin out of her control.


	3. Chapter 3: the girl

CHAPTER 3

THE GIRL

Rosa turned on her side and covered herself carefully with the woolen blanket. She had no idea sleeping on the ground was so wonderful. The grass smelled so fresh and it was the softest pillow beneath her head. She had somehow managed to settle down a little further from the sleeping men, although in her identity as 'Stuart' there really wasn't a good excuse for it, except perhaps that she was unaccustomed and scared of their strange ways. She hated that Robin should think her timid, but it was safer for her secret identity like this.

She still didn't know how she had managed to get herself in this situation.

Getting attacked by two burly thieves on her way to Robin's camp and having to exchange blows with them was not exactly in keeping with her need to remain inconspicuous. She was thankful that two of Robin's men had rescued her from her overpowering opponents, but as she was badly bruised and barely conscious by the time they brought her to Robin, he flatly refused to let her go until he had seen with his own eyes that she was unharmed. This seemed a bit strange to her, seeing that in Robin Hood's eyes she was just a 'green boy', as he himself had called her on their first encounter. Why did he take such trouble over a mere youth?

Secretly, however she was glad for the opportunity to prolong her delicious adventure until morning. It was of course uncomfortable to go to sleep without even having washed her face first, but she wouldn't do anything that might expose her, she decided. Anyway, as soon as she lay down and glanced at the star-studded canopy of the dark heavens above her, she forgot all about her dirty clothes.

She glanced a few yards away to where she had seen Robin Hood make his pallet of sorts and saw that he was looking in her direction, frowning. She quickly turned away, wondering that he wasn't satisfied with the clearly improved state of her health, since she had eaten heartily and laughed and talked with those sitting beside her. Her body ached almost everywhere, but otherwise she felt better than she had done in her entire life, lying in the soft grass like that, the night sounds of the forest gently caressing her ears. It seemed like there had never been a problem in the whole world. Nor would there ever be any in the future.

She awoke to a feeling of deep contentment. She was earlier than everybody else, for despite her exhaustion, her ears were unaccustomed to the sound of chirping birds out in the open. She took a quick look around and saw that everyone was indeed sleeping, rather loudly too fro that matter, except for the nightly guards.

Suddenly, she couldn't stay in this dirty state a moment longer. Even if riding and then sleeping in her clothes hadn't taken its toll, rolling around on the ground when fighting with those dirty villains had left her feeling there was actually dust _between_ her clothes and her skin. Yesterday Robin had showed her a little stream where the men washed. It ran alongside the camp a short distance from where she was right now and it was conveniently concealed by a thick growth of trees.

As soon as she reached it, she slipped off her clothes and stepped into the cold, clear water. She closed her eyes at the sheer pleasure of the water running from her skin and started washing herself with slow, rhythmical movements.

Robin hadn't slept well. It was disturbing him greatly the way his mind, even his heart, responded to this strange boy. He felt so fiercely protective of the lad. When they had brought him to the camp the day before, Robin had taken one look at his limp form and his heart had stopped. Later, even though it had become clear that the youth was absolutely fine, he had insisted on keeping him nearby to ensure his safety, he had said. But the truth was he hoped that the sight of Stuart laughing and eating, hearty and hale, would dispel from his mind the disturbing image of his unconscious and beaten state.

Finally deciding that it was beside the point to further try to capture the elusive sleep, Robin got up and headed for the stream to wash himself, as he did infallibly every morning.

He saw her as soon as he stepped clear of the trees. She was beautiful, exquisite. She had red hair the color of copper. It reached into the water and was incredibly thick and gleaming in the gently morning light. For a minute he thought she must be a nymph of the forest, or at least a vision. That was part of the reason that he spoke, to break the spell. The other part of that reason was probably that he was so surprised.

"Miss?" he shouted almost without realizing what he did.

Rosa spun around and her feet slipped in the bottom of the stream. She fell and the water covered her head. Before she realized what had happened she had swallowed some. She felt a blinding pain as she hit her head on the slippery stones.

Then she was being lifted out of the water by strong hands. As she coughed out water, she remotely felt grateful that her long, waist-length hair covered most of her nudity.

Robin quickly wrapped his green cloak around her, however, even as he lifted her out of the water, not caring that it became wet in the process.

He laid her on the ground carefully, gently cradling her head and trying to steady her until he was sure she was breathing normally.

"Are you well, miss? Please speak to me-" then he stopped short as he looked into her face clearly for the first time.

"Stuart!" he whispered in shock.

Rosa opened her mouth to speak but another cough tore her chest, and Robin lifted her to a sitting position, anxiously brushing her wet hair away from her face. The paroxysm passed and exhausted she leaned back against his muscled arm. Her lips were starting to turn purple from the cold, and her peachy skin was alarmingly pale at the moment, but Robin found himself angry that he could ever have thought her a boy. Her wet lashes, darkened by the weight of the tiny drops of water that lingered there lay closed against her velvet cheeks and Robin felt like falling to his knees and worshiping her.

"Please forgive me…" she said in a shaking voice, hoarse from coughing, her eyes full of a new fear.

"Shh, don't strain yourself. How do you fare?"

"I am fine now. If I could just get to my clothes…"

"Just lay there a bit longer, until you are completely recovered."

He vigorously rubbed her arms, trying to warm her, while anxiously studied her pale face. As soon as he saw a little colour returning to her cheeks he reluctantly got up from her side and retrieved her boy's clothes.

"I will give them to you only if you will promise to call me the minute you feel unwell." He went on as soon as she nodded to him shyly, without looking directly up at him. He was curiously disappointed. "Good. Now I am going behind these trees, to keep watch. Don't worry, you are safe." He tried to reassure her with his eyes. Somehow he couldn't bare the look of a frightened doe he saw in her eyes.

They returned back to the camp, Rosa dressed as Stuart again, her secret safely hidden inside her hood. Hidden to all eyes except Robin's. She felt so frightened, so insecure now, that she hardly knew how to behave. And the questions kept reeling her mind. What would he do with her now? How would he treat her? Would he distrust her every word, both past and present? For one thing, she had been roughly awakened from her lovely dream and she never hoped to find it again.

Robin couldn't keep his eyes from her. He now finally understood his protective instincts. His heart had seen this beautiful woman as she was, even if his eyes had been too stupid to do so. He looked at her anxiously now, worrying about whether her fall in the river had done her any serious damage and cursing himself for the darkening bruise on her temple. He also looked at her admiringly, for she was so terribly beautiful, even dressed as a boy. And he looked at her wonderingly. How could such a fragile creature be so brave? How was it possible that such exquisite beauty could belie so much strength?

It never once crossed his mind to doubt her now that instead of a boy he had before him a girl.


	4. Chapter 4: Secrets

_**Author's note: **__I just wanted to thank everyone who has been reading this story, 'favorited' or 'alerted' it. You have no idea what it means to me. Special thanks to Jiffie and darktiger09. Your reviews are the greatest encouragement. This chapter is dedicated to you two. Any other reviews would be very much appreciated and needed. Please let me know if there is anything that I should correct, since English is not my first language. Thanks again and enjoy._

CHAPTER 4

SECRETS

"Will you tell me your name?" Robin asked gently, as if speaking to a frightened child.

"Please don't ask me that." She pleaded, and for the first time she looked up into his eyes. His breath stopped.

They were once more on the road that led to the castle and Robin prayed that it would last forever. He couldn't think how he would be able to exist after she left him.

"So what shall I call you?" he persisted. "I cannot very well continue to call you Stuart, can I? At least not when we are without others around us." He laughed, trying to put her at her ease.

Rosa stopped her horse abruptly.

"You will want to speak to me again after what you found out today?" she asked, her eyes rounding in surprise, much like they had done on that first evening they had travelled this same path together.

"I cannot even begin to imagine how I will bear the worry and concern for you, knowing that on any evening you may be riding through the forest, where some dirty scum may pounce upon you…." he stopped and brought his fist to his lips, his eyes tightly shut against the horrible image. "However", he went on in a moment, "the thought that you may never come here again, that I may have frightened you away with my crude manners and my invasion of your privacy…. it's even more unbearable."

She looked into his eyes curiously, wondering whether he was sincere. The intensity that she saw there delighted and frightened her at the same time.

"You still trust me then?" she asked finally.

"Trust you? I admire you, I wonder at your courage… I fear it."

"Fear it?"

"I fear what it may lead you to. And I fear that I might not have had it, were I in your place."

She bent her head, embarrassed by his praise.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked gently a while later.

"What?"

"I want to see your hair." He said simply. "Please. Just for the few miles until we reach your destination."

She took off her hood and Robin reached out and loosened her hair, sending its waves cascading down her shoulders. Then he just sat there and watched her until time seemed to have stopped.

Slowly, as one in a dream, he took her hand in his large one and brought it reverently to his lips. He pressed a kiss in her soft palm for several moments and then he looked into her sunlit face.

"Promise me that you will come again", he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with urgency and emotion.

Rosa couldn't speak, so she nodded mutely. They had arrived as close to the castle as they could in the broad daylight. She tried to turn her horse to leave, but Robin was still holding her hand and wouldn't let go of it. She turned and said:

"Rose. You may call me Rose."

He reluctantly released her hand, as if now he had something else of hers to hold on to, and she galloped into the opening ahead.

"Rose", he whispered to himself in the sunshine, the word a soft caress on his lips.

The next time she went to the forest was a bit sooner than was strictly needed, but she had to make sure for herself if the face that had kept her awake at nights was in fact real. She hadn't ridden very far into the forest when three green-clad men appeared as if from nowhere and greeted her, as usual.

"Good day, lass. Are ye well?"

She nodded, but looked a little confused, so the man went hurriedly on, looking at the others as if for confirmation.

"Robin told us. You have nothing to fear, miss, I swear."

"Yea, he has made us comb the whole forest three times daily, for fear some evil would find you when you visited us next", another one helpfully added.

"So that's why he had to tell you." Rosa said.

"Well, that and a few sound beatings."

The men laughed and the one who was called Gilbert took the reins of her horse in his hand and lead the way. After a while, Rosa spoke:

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

The men stopped, confused. They all felt so different, now that there was a girl among them instead of a boy. Now they were looking at each other worrying about what it was they had forgotten to do. Rosa couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing, which made them look even more confused. Finally, when she was able to speak, she said:

"You forgot to put the scarf over my eyes, is all. Are we not getting close to the secret passage?"

"Oh, no. The chief said we were to show you the way. Said you would be safer this way. Now be sure to memorize everything, I sure don't want to have to answer to him if you ever get lost." Gilbert said.

Rosa paled a little, but she let them lead the way in silence. This was a little disturbing to her. So now Robin Hood trusted her with the most important secret of his existence. And what's more, he trusted her with the safety of his men. What had changed? Only that she was now a girl, not a boy. Maybe that was enough for him to know he could trust her. But what if he ever found out who she really was? She quickly shook that thought out of her mind. There was no need to worry about that because that would never happen, she firmly told herself.

A couple of minutes later she was looking into Robin Hood's sky-blue eyes. She tired to believe that she wasn't just imagining the raw joy she saw in there.

"Rose!" he said almost reverently as he brought her hand to his lips.

She looked into his eyes and didn't even remember that he wasn't saying her real name.

After they had eaten they all sat around the huge fire, as was customary, but Robin didn't do his rounds in the company of his men for once. He sat next to Rosa and stared at her silently. Then he gently took a strand of her red hair in his long fingers and turned in so that it caught the warm light of the fire and became golden.

"You know, your hair is such a unique color, like fire itself. Like fire and sun and life. And courage", he whispered dreamily. He dropped a light kiss on her head, and went on, his eyes shut, as if he was reliving in some dark corner of his past.

"Your hair reminds me of a story I bet every one has long forgotten. But not I, never. I think on it every single moment of every single day. Another girl had hair just like yours. A girl that saved my life. And in the process, she lost hers."

Rosa was surprised to see tears in the corners of his eyes. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about with Robin Hood. So she held her peace, hoping that was all he was going to say on the matter. He went on, however, in a moment, his voice low and shaking with emotion:

"She fell on me. Now that I think about it, it was the only time that the Sheriff actually managed to capture me. I was on the ground and he was plunging a knife at my heart. And then, out of nowhere, I felt someone fall on me. I was covered by her slim body and her hair, it was the colour of fire, just like yours, it fell all over my face. And then I felt her contract from the pain and I knew the dagger had gone into her heart instead of mine. And the blood, her precious warm blood flowed through my clothes and soaked me…. I can't tell you how many times I have relived this scene in my mind. It lasted only for a few seconds, you understand? It all happened so quickly, and before I knew it my men had dragged me out of the mess and we were safely in the woods. But everything was so clear to me while it happened; it was as if it lasted for a whole year."

He stopped for a moment, and roughly wiped the tears that were now flowing freely from his eyes. Then he went on.

"It was more than a year ago. And I am almost completely sure that she died right then. But still, for a year and a half I have been looking everywhere for a girl with hair the colour of fire. There never once has been one with that precise colour. Everyone says that it was a lucky accident. But I know better. I felt it. She fell on me, I know it. She did it to save me. And I will never be able to thank her. I don't even know her name."

He gazed silent in the fire, spent by the tale.

"It was so long ago", she ventured to say finally. "It seems to me you should be thankful and just let it be."

He turned to her and smiled.

"There is nothing else I can do. But I thank you, my fair lass, for listening to me. It did me a world of good. Only please don't tell anyone about this. They will mercilessly tease me."

"I won't. It seems to me however that you harbor no small fear of your men. Strange that, for such an outlaw as yourself." She laughed and he did, too.

"Strange it is and yet I somehow do not fear your knowledge of it. All my secrets are now in your fair hands." He took her hands in his and kissed them one by one, as he went on. "And they are safe."

A little chill ran through her spine at his last words. Whether it was from hearing her own story from his lips, or from his assurance of his safety in her hands, she wasn't sure. But now was not the time for such deep reflections. She would think everything over in the solitude of her room.

Robin was already standing and extending a hand to her. She took it and in a moment she was by his side. In a graceful sweep, she was in his arms dancing to the joyous music of Alan's harp around the huge fire. Every other thought fled from her mind. His touch, his look, his voice - they were her whole world. And it was enough.


	5. Chapter 5: Plans

CHAPTER 5

PLANS

She left after midnight, so loath was she to tear herself away from the merry men's company. Apart from the thrill that their handsome leader caused in her heart, their laughter and cheer never failed to lift her spirits and transport her into a world where justice and goodness triumphed. She so longed to be able to stay there for a whole day, but she knew she must be very careful, if not for her sake, then for his.

This time Robin came with her almost to the gates of the castle. She tried to argue against it, but there was no changing his mind. Rosa knew it was hardly necessary and highly dangerous for him to come so close, but what she didn't know were his real motives for insisting. For he couldn't bear the thought of being parted from her. He rode ever so slowly until they were almost at the gates and he could see the guards pacing in the distance. Strangely, he didn't care if someone saw him. He reached to take her hand and kiss it, but abruptly he withdrew his hand, hoping she hadn't seen it. He wasn't at all sure he could stop himself merely at hand-kissing. And she was so pure, so innocent. Before, when they were dancing, it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her roughly on the mouth. As their skin touched and their eyes met between the jolly steps of the dance, he restrained himself more and more so as not to show his emotion. It would kill him before he ever laid a hand on her, he had vowed to himself over and over since the first day he had pulled her soft, trembling body from the water. So he just stood and smiled at her, unable to speak his heart, but somehow knowing that what his eyes were saying was enough. For the moment, at least.

Rosa went straight to the stables and gave her horse, Bolt, to the hands of her trusted friend who had stayed awake waiting for her to come back from her adventures in the forest. He took the reins with a smile and a wink.

"You were late, mistress", the young boy said playfully.

"I know, Jo. I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. But you know, you should have gone to bed. I can very well care for Bolt myself."

"I knew, my lady, but I had business to attend to."

From his sly and delighted smile, Rosa surmised that this 'business' of his must have referred to the young maid Meg, with whom he had been enjoying a secret dalliance these last few weeks. Amused, Rosa raised her eyebrows.

"Good for you, Jo. Just be sure to make an honest woman of her some day."

"My lady, you insult me," saith the wounded youth.

"Forgive me, Jo. The good Lord knows, if there is one person I know I can trust around here, it is you." The boy smiled proudly at these words. He was the one who had helped her get away during the nights and had kept her escapades secret. Even when she went forth dressed as a boy, she had hardly heard a word of wonder or reproach coming out of his mouth. Yes he was trustworthy. But not one of the loyal servants who were in on her many secrets, not even young Jo, did she trust with the secret of whom she was visiting at dusk or for what purpose. Too much was at stake.

"Now, that ain't true and you know it mistress," Jo was saying now. "There is not one of us who is in the service of your father, from the dungeons to the kitchens who wouldn't lay down their lives for you," he added softly.

Rosa's eyes misted.

"I don't know that I would be worth it, Jo," she said.

"Well, I do. For ye know well, m' lady, we wouldn't be alive today, most of us, if it hadn't been for you. Your father's wrath along with the last winter would have seen us dead if it hadn't been you to take care of us. We never forgets that, mistress. Now hurry and go to your father, 'cause last I heard he was up and looking for you."

"At this hour what can he want?"

Rosa hurried on the steps, her mind reeling with questions. Her father couldn't have found out about her midnight adventure, the servants would have fabricated some lie to protect her, she was sure. So then, what could he be wanting with her in the middle of the night? She hurried in the hallway, all rosy-colored thoughts of the dream that had followed her from the forest forgotten -for the moment.

It turned out the Sheriff was waiting for her for a good reason.

Her trusted maid Helena had given him some fib about her having retired to bed early, but he insisted on having her awoken and come to him. For he had news that could not wait. Now that would be something to be afraid of, Helena thought to herself as she hurried her mistress to his presence, wondering at Rosa's calm exterior.

"Happy news, daughter," he exclaimed as soon as he saw her. "Come, sit with me. For once, I have no quarrel with you. Indeed, you have greatly pleased me, my dear."

Rosa found these words more dangerous that all the threats her father had directed to her through the years and she struggled to maintain her calm as she took a seat opposite the Sheriff's opulent form, in front of the large open fire. In the background, the servants' clanging and hurrying about was conspicuously absent, for it was well past midnight.

The Sheriff paused dramatically for effect, and then said triumphantly:

"A few hours ago I received an offer for your hand. You are to be congratulated, daughter, for your bridegroom is a most powerful man, whose wealth alone will be a plentiful addition to mine. I must tell you, I never thought I would be rid of you, let alone so fortuitously. For all your looks, you have a disturbing tendency to stray from virtue…. Still, the man wants you, I suppose, or else he wouldn't have come all the way to ask me for your hand, so that's the last complaint you will hear form me. Come now, we must plan the nuptials as soon as possible-"

"Father." Rosa was surprised to hear her voice so steady, for all the effort she had put in it.

"For heaven's sake, stop staring at me with those wide eyes, what is it girl?" he ejaculated impatiently.

"His name, father. What is his name?"

"Oh. Why, it's young Hugh DeHavenger, of course."

Her father went on to weave that worthy's praise, but Rosa hardly heard him. It seemed like a dark veil had separated her from the world at the sound of her aspiring husband's name.

Hugh DeHavenger was neither old, nor repulsive or mean-spirited. In fact, he was quite handsome, she had thought. She had oft met him, for he frequented her father's company, conducting 'business of the king' with him. In truth, the business they conducted was the exact opposite, as her father -along with other nobles and men of power and means- had set about the dethronement of the long-absent king. That alone was sufficient to earn Rosa's deep and utter contempt of him.

However, he was a most powerful lord with a will of iron. If she had somehow caught his eye, and she could hardly understand how that had happened, that meant that they would be married within the week.

And there was something worse than being tied for life to an unscrupulous man who was disloyal to her beloved king.

She would lose her freedom.

As she dragged her steps to her bed, the thought fleetingly crossed her mind that she could ask for Robin's assistance. People always sought him out for this purpose, people that he hadn't met before in his life. Surely she had more claim to his services. But no. Her ambition was to serve him, to aid him, not to burden him with more troubles.

And then she remembered. As far as Robin Hood knew, she was Rose, the stable-keeper's simple daughter.

The dawn brought no clearer understanding or a brighter hope for the future, but it brought a renewed desire for the forest and that magical world beginning -for her- as the sun begun its glorious descent. How she longed to spend a whole morning there, a whole day! In view of her on-coming loss of freedom, her resolve strengthened to realize her one dream before she was irrevocably shackled to pain and disappointment.

Little did she know that that resolve was not all the morning brought; it also brought Sir Hugh, the resplendent bridegroom, himself.


	6. Chapter 6: Sir Hugh

**author's note**: _once again thank you so much to every one who has reviewed, alerted and favourited this story. This chapter is especially dedicated to deathtobella, Rachelle (hi!), Rawr and darktiger. Let me know what you think should (or might) happen next. _

CHAPTER 6

SIR HUGH

He had not come alone. A rather large company of courtiers and gentlefolk accompanied him, perhaps in an aspiration to testify to his grandeur and significance.

Of course, Rosa well knew that a simple marriage proposal, even to the daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham, did not warrant such pompous proceedings. It was rather the man's traitorous plans that depended partly upon her father's cooperation. That Rosa herself was to be merely a pawn in their machinations –as any good and dutiful housewife should be- was for the present the smallest of her problems.

She was informed that her bridegroom awaited her in the garden, so she went forth to him, no hesitation or misgiving evident in her face.

Her surprise was great at finding him sitting on a wooden bench among the damask roses, his head bend above his knees, appearing to be deeply in thought and in an inner struggle. This was strange. It was not the expected posture of a man certain of his success, as her father's words the previous night had given her to understand.

As soon as he saw her he leaped to his feet, a bit awkwardly, and bowed deeply, quite deeply indeed, given his exceptional height and stature. He didn't say a word, but his dark brooding eyes kept watching her closely, with a depth of intensity in them that mystified her. She sat next to his vacant seat, but he immediately turned to face her, instead of sitting himself.

Rosa had been expecting him to play the devoted lover, but she was further surprised to discover that no smile lightened his charming face and no rose adorned his black tunic. His long, slender fingers seemed to be trembling and there was a deep furrow on his noble brow.

"Sir Hugh." Rosa said, as he didn't seem to be inclined to break the silence.

That seemed to cure him momentarily of his inability to speak and he said, in a deep, coarse voice, much unlike his usual confident and commanding accents:

"I trust I find you well this morning, fair lady?"

"Indeed you do. And was your journey pleasant?"

"Not very unpleasant, thank you." After that he again seemed at a loss for words and fell to regarding her passionately. It was up to Rosa to speak once more. Truly, she was starting to get impatient with the man. The matter should have been done with and over by now.

"From what my father tells me, I understand-" at that she was interrupted.

"My- my lady Rosa", he began, searching for the proper words, at war with something within him, concealed from Rosa, who looked at him expectantly. "I am- I think I have some idea of what you must think of my proposition. What you do not know is this. I have no intention whatsoever of… of having you comply to my wishes if you are not of your own free will completely content to do so."

He stopped, gazing away in the distance, with something akin to desperation in his look. Now it was she who was speechless.

Every now and then, in a few yards ahead of them, someone walks in the clear path between the rhododendrons, paying little heed to them, although every one, from the servants to the visiting party, know what this commotion is all about. Now it is a couple of courtesans, laughing lightly and pointing at beautiful flowers on the way, now it is a middle-aged lady, covered in silks and lace, her maid-servant trudging along, mainly in order to listen to her complaints about the weather and the poor hospitality of the Sheriff's abode. But right now, even as she is lost among the many questions her suitor's unconventional speech has raised in her mind, Rosa cannot help but notice something that stands out.

There, in front of her, a young gentlewoman had halted in her stroll and was staring directly at Rosa. What was so strange was not so much her indiscreet gaze –which she made no effort to conceal in the thick bushes that surrounded her- as her openly hostile mien. Indeed, she looked almost murderous, rage and contempt mingling in her white face. Rosa distractedly wondered what the girl was looking at with such venom in her glance: she seemed to be looking straight at her, or perhaps at something past her. Annoyed a little, Rosa turned sideways, to Sir Hugh's mesmerizing eyes.

"I did not expect that, Sir Hugh," she said at last.

"I had a terror that you might have been thinking of me as an ogre…" he smiled wistfully, and it was amazing how even this hint of a smile completely transformed his face, Rosa thought.

"No, indeed no!" She hardly knew why, but she suddenly felt the need to comfort him. "It is only… what you said; it is hardly conventional to be asked…."

"… your opinion? Is that what you meant?"

"I am afraid so, sir."

He was silent, appearing to be looking away, so she said:

"I cannot imagine anyone aspiring to a lady's hand giving her such a choice… Why- ?"

"My dear lady, don't you know? Is it possible that I may have walked the grounds of your home for all these years without it being obvious to you?" he was smiling again, that stingy show of sunshine, but Rosa was more perplexed than ever.

"What being obvious, my lord?"

Suddenly his face became serious. He dropped to his knees before her, and his somber eyes met hers, pleadingly, caressingly.

"That I love you," he said after a moment.

It was strange, but observing him, Rosa got the impression that it had required no small amount of effort -or indeed torment- to tear these words out of his innermost soul.

A grand feast had been prepared for the honoured guests of the Sheriff. Indeed, it was a most impressive spread of delicacies, excellently cooked for the most assuming of tastes. Of course, the highlight of the banquet would be the well-renown deer that had been that very day hunted in the Sherwood Forest. The Sheriff was very proud of his game and became even more gratified by the amazed exclamations of his guests as they tasted the tempting dish.

Rosa had no appetite either way, and the sight of the large silver platters bearing the meat that she had tasted once upon a time beside a roaring fire in the company of the best of men, did little to rouse her from her depressing thoughts. That glorious time seemed now to have belonged in a dream.

Sir Hugh was seated at her right, and appeared to have no inclination to repeat his surprising declarations, at least for the present. He was silent, but, Rosa noticed, he hardly ate either. Her father, seated at the middle of the arrangement of the tables, seemed blissfully unaware of any of this, and kept filling his belly with large mouthfuls of meat. Merry voices sounded all around, a few of them distinctly complimenting their host on the excellent feast.

Rosa also heard someone congratulate her father on the control of the outlaws the used to roam the forest and steal his game. She smiled to herself. So that was the story he was spreading about eh? She smoothed the skirt of the emerald gown she had donned for the occasion –Helena insisted that it brought out the colour of her eyes, which seemed to be an important asset especially tonight- to hide her expression.

In her wild imagination she wished Robin Hood would suddenly appear before the eating company, if only to defy her father's boasts. How incredibly more handsome and noble he would look in his peasant's dress than any of the silk- and satin-attired gentlefolk! And then, he would sweep her into his powerful arms and carry her away from this world which seemed so foreign to her, even though she had been –almost- born into it and which now threatened to swallow her forever. Again, like a sharp pain, a thought woke her from her daydreams. For if Robin were indeed to appear in this very room, and see her, he would turn his face away from her in disgust and disappointment.

"Why so downcast, fair lady?" Sir Hugh's solicitous voice made her conceal her frown quickly.

"Ah, I see you immediately put up your mask," he went on. Rosa was surprised at his perceptiveness. He must have been watching her closely for the past moments.

"Forgive me, I only…."

"I truly did not mean to pry, my lady. Only to voice my concern. You have hardly touched any food. If it is my presence that disconcerts you, I will remove myself at once." He made as if to stand up.

"Indeed no, good sir. Although, I must admit that I still have not managed to sort out everything I heard from you but a few hours ago."

"Please ask me anything you wish. I hope you have at least understood that it is my fondest wish to be of some help to you, no matter how inconsequential." He smiled and for the first time, she saw that he could be charming. She would never consider him handsome, for she hadn't ever seen him wear anything but a frown on his face, and his clothes were always so somber –he was dressed in black from head to toe- and most importantly he was no brave outlaw with stars in his eyes. But right now, an almost soft expression was on his face and his eyes held a look of honesty and goodness, something she had never before deemed him capable of. She opened her mouth to thank him, but was interrupted.

A young lady, having abandoned her place in a table at the opposite end of the banquet hall, was apparently trying to wedge herself between Rosa and Sir Hugh. She leaned against him, in a way calculated to provide him with a lavish view of her charms, and proceeded to speak in a throaty voice.

"Good Sir Hugh, I came over here to tempt you with a little wine, as I noticed with concern your lack of appetite. Although," she added with a sly grin, "if what is at fault here is your company, we could remedy that as well, could we not?"

Rosa couldn't believe the girl's brazen behaviour, especially when she moved as if to sit on Sir Hugh's lap. It was too early for her to have become inebriated, wasn't it? But then again, Rosa had slightly lost track of the time, thinking of the forest.

The girl swayed, landing awkwardly on Sir Hugh's thigh and further proved Rosa's assumption to be true, by an unladylike laugh. To Rosa's surprise, Sir Hugh said nothing, neither to reprimand the girl nor to discourage her, but stood up decisively. He took the girl by the arm, rather roughly, Rosa thought, and all but dragged her aside, where he thrust her to the support of an unsuspecting servant.

He came back with a quite disgusted look on his face and began earnestly apologizing to Rosa, but her mind was occupied with a question. She kept watching the girl's progress through the room, and suddenly realized where she had seen her before. For the very hostile face she had noticed watching her in the garden belonged to that same girl.

"Who is she?" she asked Sir Hugh.

"Her name is Eloise Cecil," he answered reluctantly.

"Not the daughter of Lord Cecil, of London?"

"The same." Sir Hugh glanced at her sideways, and gave one of his rare smiles. "I am afraid my conquest of her interest is not something which raises me in your esteem."

"The conquest of her interest? I should think it is much more than that."

"Why do you say that?" he frowned.

"Why, she positively hates me. If that is not an indication of her feelings, then what is?"

"You should not worry. You see, I don't think we can talk of feelings where this particular lady is concerned. Ambition, yes. But no more."

Rosa couldn't help but smile ruefully at this, for it so accurately described Sir Hugh himself, in her opinion. If she had hoped that it would go unnoticed by him, she was wrong. He leaned close, and asked eagerly:

"What did that smile mean?"

"You have suddenly begun to notice a lot," she couldn't help but say.

"There is nothing sudden about it. I have paid particular attention to your every move, since the first day I saw you. It was here, in this very room, and you were but fourteen years old…" he seemed lost in his thoughts for a minute.

"But… but that's almost five years!" she said, amazed.

"So it is." He smiled again. Then, as abruptly as it had come, the smile left his face and a look of deep concern took its place. "But you haven't answered my question. What was that smile for?" Then he seemed to think of something, and said suddenly, "That's what you think of me, isn't it? You think I am devoid of feeling." He said it calmly, like an observation, but his eyes belied his sadness at this discovery.

Rosa tried to think of something to say, but he lifted a hand to stop her, as if he knew.

"You needn't contradict it. I am grateful for this small glimpse into your thoughts. All I can hope now is that I might endeavor to prove you wrong. Only tell me this, I beg you. Might I still try? It rests entirely in your delicate hands." He took her hand in his and gently kissed her palm, his eyes never leaving her face, intense, beseeching.

At that moment, the increasingly merry and loud feast was interrupted into deadly silence. For at that precise moment, a feathered arrow flew in by way of the window and planted itself right in the fleshy part of the remaining uneaten deer, which also happened to be placed directly in front of the Sheriff.


	7. Chapter 7: The Kiss

CHAPTER 7

THE KISS

Confusion reigned at once. Male voices calling:

"Guards! Guards!"

Female voices screaming. Feet running. Metal clanging. And in the midst of it all, the Sheriff's booming, furious voice.

"Get him, now! I will have your heads, you hear me? He was right outside the window, you useless b-!"

A few guards rushed out the door, others tried to climb outside the window, in an effort to discover the way the outlaw or outlaws had managed to intrude the sacredness of the Sheriff's domain.

Rosa's father fell heavily on his chair, motioning to a servant to bring him to offending arrow. There was, as expected, a small note attached to it.

_Enjoy your feas__t Sheriff_, it said laconically, and was signed _R.H._

The Sheriff turned an alarming purple colour, and his guests tried to collect their wits and restore something of the former splendour of their feast. However, the Sheriff was not to be consoled.

"They are mine!" he kept saying to his enemy, imagining him right there, at throttling distance. "I don't need your permission to enjoy my deer, you thief, you abominable-"

"Thought you said he was dead, that forest fellow," a voice muttered sarcastically next to him. The Sheriff stood to his feet, rage distorting his face in an ugly grimace.

"And so he shall be, I swear! My horse. Saddle it! Immediately."

"Good Sheriff, it is the middle of the night…" Someone tried to dissuade his from further folly.

"At once, I said!" the Sheriff swept the hall in what he thought was a majestic gesture.

He rushed from the room as fast as his heavy cloak, lined with fur, and his increased weight allowed him, amid snickers from his guests. Damn, that Robin Hood, he thought. He took pleasure in humiliating him, but no more. He vowed to himself right then and there. No more.

There was however, one person absent from the room, who would have had a great deal of interest in witnessing this vehement outburst. But Rosa had left the banquet hall a couple of moments previous to that. And this is how it happened.

Sir Hugh was still holding her hand in his reverently, when the arrow flew in through the window. He felt her trembling violently next to him and reached out a hand to support her. But then he looked in her face and discovered that she had gone all white.

"My lady… what is the matter?" he asked, frightened. "Play, do not be concerned. I do not believe there is any real threat…"

Rosa tried to speak, but her lips were trembling. How could he be so stupid, was all she could think. To do a thing so dangerous, to so blatantly laugh straight on the face of danger, of certain death even… Was there any solid reason for Robin to risk his head that way? She was so afraid that she couldn't breathe for a moment. And then she started to feel the familiar dull pain beginning to throb at her side. Immediately, she was alert. It certainly wouldn't do to have an attack right now. She tried to breathe regularly, rhythmically, but already the pain had grown to an almost insupportable pitch. She felt her face drain of blood and fought to remain conscious. Next to her, Sir Hugh was holding her upright and looking at her with something akin to panic.

"Are you unwell, Rosa?" he said again, forgetting to use her title. "No, no do not close your eyes. Stay with me!" he commanded. Then, "Maybe you should breathe some fresh air. Yes, that's it."

Decisively he helped her stand, while encircling her waist. When he found that her legs would not support her, he put his other arm around her as well and thus supporting her, he all but carried her from the room. As soon as they were on the terrace, he made her sit on a stone bench and returned in a minute with a glass of wine in his hand. He helped her drink, while holding her upright and then sat and gazed at the expressions that were taking form on her face. She was silent, but her eyes shone like stars with intensity and excitement. And pain, although, mercifully, it seemed to be subsiding a bit. He knew now that this trembling, which still shook her, wasn't terror for her own safety.

"So that's how it is, eh?" he said quietly, as if speaking to himself, a moment later.

"What?" she asked, almost visibly gasping for breath..

"That is where your loyalties lie, fair Rosa." He said again. "I should have known. It was always thus, wasn't it? From the very first. And I thought all this time… I wanted to kill the villain personally, did you know that? Yes, I did. For being the cause of your suffering, of you death almost. But apparently I was wrong." He made a fist with his strong hand and brought it vehemently down on his thigh.

"I would gladly have laid down my life for Robin Hood's that time and any other time it is needed, if that is what you mean." She replied, a hand pressing her aching side. Only then did he realize what the matter was.

"Good God, is it hurting you? Your injury?" his eyes examined her, his expression dark with concern.

"I'm better now, I think it's passed." She took another careful breath. Yes, the pain had definitely grown less intense. She closed her eyes, in thankful relief.

"I did not know it still troubled you…" he murmured, frowning.

"It doesn't, really," she replied dismissively. "I only suffer some rare attacks, usually caused by uneven breathing, or some extreme agitation. The left lung is quite destroyed, you know."

"Attacks?" He persisted, much to her discomfort. "Of what kind?"

"Of black, intense pain, if you must know."

"It appears to me you take no small amount of pride in this," he said slowly, observing her.

"Indeed, you are correct, Sir Hugh. I consider it to be the great accomplishment of my life."

Silence reigned for a minute after this emphatic statement.

"Why?" he burst out suddenly, anger darkening his eyes. "I mean, I have never made the mistake of comparing you to other women, but still this act was by far the most heroic deed I have ever heard about, and I have seen my share of battle. Such a brave, fearless risk you took, probably knowing you might meet your end by it, too. Why? What has this robber done to inspire such unbelievable courage in your heart, to earn your loyalty unto… well, death, literally?"

"He has given me hope." She answered simply, a faint smile softening her features. "He made me believe in goodness again. And justice. You know," she continued after a moment's pause, since he didn't seem to be inclined to speak, "I sincerely believe that everyone, from the poorest waif to a king, both men and women, everyone needs a worthy cause to live for. To believe in, to fight for and even to die for if necessary. Life acquires meaning when one lives for something worth dying for. Robin Hood is that to me."

He regarded her in silence for a few minutes, admiration, respect and incredulity mingling in his expression. Finally, a thought seemed to strike him and he spoke angrily again.

"I… I cannot even begin to imagine the gratitude, the guilt… the pain this injury of yours would- or must I say _should-_ have caused to he who is responsible for it, even if he thought it was accidental. If, of course he were a man of honor-"

Rosa interrupted him abruptly.

"He doesn't know!" she said, with horror.

Sir Hugh looked at her for a moment and then laughed a dry, mirthless laugh.

"Of course he doesn't," he said. "God, how could I have thought otherwise, knowing you as I do? Of course the coarse, uncivilized oaf has no idea whatsoever."

Rosa wouldn't have thought it possible, but some miracle must have occurred.

It was the next day and here she was, riding into the forest a few hours before sunset, her heart lifted almost to the skies.

Was it possible that the man was actually telling the truth when he spoke of having feelings for her? If not, how else could she explain his covering her absence so that she could go on an excursion to the Sherwood Forest? Especially since he had made known his feelings toward Robin Hood with so much vehemence last night. In fact, she had asked him just that. Instead of a response he had looked straight into her eyes, his own dark ones poring into hers, so much intensity in them, that it had silenced her.

"Might I ask you a question too, fair lady?" He had said after a moment. "Why do you not leap to your noble hero's defense when I so often abuse him? I confess, a few times I thought to provoke you. But you seem hardly to notice it. That isn't the case, however, is it?"

"Well… the truth is, Sir Hugh, I hardly think it worth the trouble." She had said it calmly and smilingly, as if it hardly upset her at all.

"I see."

"You are so obviously the very opposite, by character and birth…. And your loyalties certainly do not lie with the true king-"

He had interrupted her angrily at this.

"True king be damned! He has abandoned this country to God's mercy, running away like a coward to have his fun in the East. I tell you, this outlaw of yours, who you think is so devoted to the true king and all those rag-tagging half-wits that follow him, they are all hypocrites. Do you really think for one moment that he has accumulated all this wealth merely to distribute it? Talk about gullible!" he had caught a glimpse of her outraged look and checked himself. "Look, I know you believe my actions and plans with the Sheriff to be… traitorous at best. But have you stopped to consider, this country is bereft of a king, true or otherwise. We are merely seeking to remedy this."

Rosa had narrowed her eyes at him.

"Do you want me to be so naïve as to think that the good of this land is the only thing you plot about? Please, do not ask me to believe this of my father, however well you may seek to present your suit to me." Disgusted, she had made to leave, but he sprang to his feet and lightly touched her arm to stay her, his eyes beseeching her understanding.

"I do not pretend ignorance of the Sheriff's own plans. But I really thought _you_ would be generous enough to separate me from such ulterior motives. I beg you to understand, I beg you… Are you indeed blind to the situation king Richard has abandoned England?"

Rosa had studied him for a while, trying to see him in the light his surprising statements implied. It was rather obvious he was trying to separate himself from her father's base and selfish motives. However, she was reluctant to trust his misplaced goodwill for the country.

"In truth, Sir Hugh, I may not agree with the king's present choice, namely, to be so long absent from his subordinates. However, he is the rightful and only king of this land. That alone is enough for him to earn my lifelong loyalty and devotion," she had replied, choosing her words carefully, but speaking them with firmness and conviction.

"Well, I cannot fail to admire that," he had said and suddenly took her hand and brought it to his lips. He had kissed it long and passionately, his eyes tightly shut, as if at some insufferable pain.

Afterwards, however, he had told her she was free to visit the forest and he would say that she was with him the entire time, implying they were engaged in secret and intimate rendezvous, which wouldn't be hard for everyone to believe. Her eyes had grown round with surprise at this, and to her obvious question, he had answered, with his customary sad half-smile:

"I wish, more for your own safety than for anything else, that you wouldn't go there ever again. However, I seem to have a great weakness for your happiness. And it seems to me that this is the only thing that would make you so. Now go, if you must. I will see to it that everyone thinks that you are with me."

Rosa had been so overwhelmed by his words, that before she had had time to think of it, she had impulsively thrown her arms around him, whispering happily 'thank you, thank you so much!"

At first, he froze with the shock of her nearness, but then his hands went round her fiercely, violently, almost threatening to choke her. Realizing this, he released her rather abruptly. He stepped away from her, his head bent down, but before he did, she had a fleeting glance of tears gleaming in his eyes. It took him a minute to compose himself. Then he approached her again, so close that all she could see of him was the black silk of his tunic, for he was towering above her. She felt his trembling hand touch her hair lightly and he whispered in her ear:

"Promise me that you will be careful. If something were to befall you, I don't know how I…. Promise me you will be safe, I beg thee."

"I will," she answered, rather dazed by his closeness.

He took a step backwards and studied her, pain evident in his eyes.

"I suppose it would do little good to propose to take you there myself, although I have half a mind to force my company on you, for I can't bear to imagine those filthy, depraved outlaws near you…" he said. He held up a hand as she opened her lips to speak. "No, it's all right. I understand. Go now, make yourself ready."

When she came down to the stables however, he was already there, holding the bridle of her saddled horse and looking more forbidding than ever. Rosa thought he had changed his mind and sagged in disappointment. His expression changed however as soon as he took in her peasant dress and dark kerchief.

"I see you make a habit of deceiving men," he said sarcastically, one eyebrow lifted challengingly.

Rosa didn't lose her composure.

"Even _my_ unparalleled courage would not be enough to face Robin Hood as the Sheriff's daughter," she replied in the same tone.

"I thought he would appreciate having an ally beneath the good Sheriff's nose." He saw her expression darken menacingly and added quickly, "or at least that he would be happy to welcome his beloved king's niece in his den, a true princess actually."

"I am hardly the king's niece anymore."

"Oh? I did not know that you abandoned your heritage along with your mother?"

"First of all, I did _not_ abandon my mother. More, it was vice versa." This subject always pained her immensely, so she changed it forthwith. "I merely meant that this alliance is no longer considered valid, by my father, since he hardly acknowledges my mother's existence anymore."

"Another fine point that our sovereign has failed to address. But then again, maybe the Saracens require more of his attention that say, his cousin left to live in poverty and, possibly, sin." He said the last quite deliberately, hoping she would take the bait and delve into some description of her mother's reduced circumstances and obscure existence, but Rosa was anxious to leave.

"I will not quarrel with you any more on this subject, Sir Hugh. Now, will you please stand aside that I may mount my horse? Thank you."

He reluctantly stood to the side and not another word passed his lips as he watched her gracefully lift herself on the saddle and trot into the golden dusk.

Only then did she think she heard him murmuring in the distance, much as if he were speaking to himself:

"If I can at least give her this joy, so be it. A strange thing it is and inconceivable, but her happiness makes mine."

Rosa never had a chance to brush up her knowledge of the Merry Company's secret passage through the wood, because she was met by a group of green-clad men well before she even reached the gentle waterfall that indicated a concealed cavity which led into the camp. They appeared overjoyed to see her, albeit her absence had been brief. She however felt like a bird let out of its cage, sucking in every breath of freedom like it was her last.

Robin looked up from where he was sitting, fashioning some kind of weapon, which was as yet obscure in his calloused, brown hands. He didn't get up, he merely nodded at her, but as his black eyes met hers she had the odd impression that they rivaled the midday sun for brightness.

Over dinner she chatted with Little John, which was not a frequent occasion, for the huge man had appeared pretty intimidating to her at first. But every time she spoke with him she was flooded by a deep feeling of safety and peace. The man was so devoted to his leader, he would leap into fire just for his amusement. Rosa was surprised however when John's face took a boyish look and he timidly asked for her help in a delicate matter. She laughed at his surprising timidity and said that she was all ears.

It turned out that this 'delicate matter' was not all that much delicate, but it did give her the excuse she was craving for such a long time, namely, to stay overnight in the camp. She had stayed once, long ago, but she was Stuart then and she had to sleep with the men, whereas now she would sleep in a separate place, along with lady Alice, a former gentlewoman the outlaws had rescued from an unhappy almost-wedding. She couldn't contain her joy as soon as it was settled with Little John, that she would stay the next day to show them how to make lye. They did use a version of it, but due to the fact that this was a matter usually left to the women, Rosa wanted to say that they would do better to wash with just water rather than use the poor excuse for lye that they already had. She kept her opinion to herself, however, and happily agreed to help them, relieved that even though she was not in truth a servant, she had spent long enough hours at the kitchens of the castle that she was more than familiar with the process. Exactly like she would have been if she was indeed Rose, the stable-keeper's daughter.

She didn't know it but it took more than a little persuading to get Robin to agree with the plan.

"It is not safe for her, John." He said over and over again to his trusted friend. "I will not put her in danger, nor from the Sheriff's men, nor from ourselves."

"One night hardly makes her of the same ilk as we, Robin. Now her escapades to give us the goings-on of the castle; that could have her head chopped off in a minute-"

"Stop it!" Robin shouted angrily, resenting John's soft chuckle. "Never think such a thing again, you hear me?"

"Easy man, you know I mean no harm," Little John said, alarmed at his leader's unexpected reaction. "She is safer here with us than if she were sitting in the Sheriff's table last night."

They both roared with laughter at this, oblivious to the irony of the statement.

"We'll double the guards this night, just in case." Robin said as soon as they had sobered down, anxious all over again. "Yes, and I'll stay up, right outside her tent."

"Robin." John waited until he was facing him fully and then went on. "I don't think that you losing your sleep will keep the girl any safer. No, you need your strength for tomorrow. Now, the danger which you fear most of all will heed no guards or bows."

Robin narrowed his eyes questioningly for a moment, and then bowed his head down.

"It's myself I fear most of all, you're right," he murmured. "She has a fine quality about her, something so fierce and fragile at the same time…. I feel as if I cannot control myself around her as I would want to." Suddenly, he laughed aloud. "It would be a fine thing if we were to have an archery contest and she were here, I doubt any of my arrows would come within a yard of the mark. How the men would love that!" The whole camp echoed with their laughter. "But no," Robin went on. "No, I couldn't bear for her to think ill of me. So see that no one gets word of this around here, or else. You were lucky a few times I grant you, but it will be you who'll take a ducking in the river if you cross me on this."

"Conceited oaf!" murmured Little John through his teeth as he got up to rouse Friar Tuck from his prolonged nap. But his lips were smiling.

Robin took his wooden cup that contained a steaming chunk of meat and squatted down unceremoniously next to her. They ate in silence for a minute and then Rosa could no longer contain herself.

"I was very angry with you yesterday." She said and Robin almost choked on his bite.

"Angry?" he asked taken aback, as if he had considered her incapable of such an emotion. In connection to himself, at least.

"When I heard about the flying arrow, I…."

Robin laughed, relieved, pride glowing in his black eyes.

"So the tale travelled to the stables eh?"

"It will probably have reached the ears of the king himself by now!" she exclaimed, infuriated by his apathy. He didn't even notice. Instead his cheeks grew pink with joy. Well, it was rather dark for her to discern if he actually blushed, but he certainly behaved as if he had. "I was saying how angry it made me…"

He seemed to sober a little at that.

"Why?" he asked, and for a minute it seemed to her that he really cared for her opinion.

"… and scared," she finished.

He turned to look at her abruptly. He will laugh at me, she thought. But he didn't. Instead, his expression became dark, inscrutable. They fell silent, but Robin didn't continue eating. His portion of the day's hunt lay delicious and untouched in his idle hands, all but forgotten.

He stared at her blankly and said, as if she was expecting an explanation for his sudden silence:

"Forgive me, I am at a loss…. You say you were scared? Surely you did not think you were in any danger? I swear they would all have died terrible deaths in that banquet room before I would have allowed any harm to come to you. You know that, don't you?" His eyes were intent on her, willing her to believe him and he reached out a hand towards her, but thought better of it and withdrew it.

"It was for you I was scared, master. For you and your men and…" she hesitated.

"And?" he prompted.

"…and you," she finished, rather embarrassed.

"I admit I cannot remember the last time someone worried about me, fair maiden," he replied slowly. "You do me a great honour."

Rosa looked at him, speechless. She was surprised and a little awkward at his answer.

"Well, everyone is abuzz with speculation at the meaning of your cryptic note," she said, trying to make light of the situation.

"Are they now? And I thought I had made it plain as day," he replied, but he still looked serious and ate but a few bites of his food.

And his eyes never once left her face until the camp settled down to sleep. Or in some cases, merely to dream with open eyes.

Little John awoke her with a gentle pull before the break of dawn, for he would have no time to waste once the sun rose. They went to work eagerly, a few more men coming to their help as they progressed. They went on famously until, when they were almost done Robin came, hardly noticing what they were doing, a deep frown on his face, his steps hurried and anxious.

"John!" he shouted.

"Here, chief!" came the prompt answer.

"Come, we have to go swift," he said more calmly, but still urgently. Little John got up immediately. Only then did Robin seem to notice Rosa and address her:

"Forgive me Rose, for interrupting you. We have to get ready." His smile dazzled her for a moment and then he was gone.

As the others readied the horses, Rosa heard the news. Apparently the Sheriff, mad about the incident with the arrow at the banquet, and further humiliated by his fruitless efforts that very night, had sent his men to comb the forest. Robin's guards that were scattered around the forest by daytime, had spotted a group of the Sheriff's guards getting dangerously close to the camp. Upon hearing of this, Rosa's heart was gripped with fear. The groups of guards that had been sent were larger than ever before and she knew firsthand the measure of the Sheriff's anger. Even Robin must be uneasy this time. She had seen it in his eyes, had heard it in his urgency of his step; this would be a hard battle to fight, even for him.

Soon enough a few small groups were made, one lead by Robin and another by Little John. The rest were to be sent to less dangerous spots. Rosa felt a surge of panic as soon as she saw the bows and arrows that they equipped themselves with. Surely their hands were talented and their step agile, but even from their vantage point high on the trees, she couldn't help but fear that these wouldn't be enough to grant them victory against groups of twenty men, clothed in heavy mail and carrying their brutal weapons. She tried to keep as much out of the way as possible and show a brave face, like everybody else did that had to stay behind.

The men mounted, and group after group left in their respective directions. Robin's was last. He sent them all in front of him and spurred his horse into a gallop before he disappeared among the thick leaves.

Rosa leaned her head against a tree, trying to calm her racing heart. A breeze stirred her hair softly, but it didn't touch her heart. She closed her eyes and tried to dispel the awful images that appeared in her mind. Suddenly she heard hoof beats nearby and opened her eyes, surprised, to see who it was.

But she didn't have time to see anything. Before she knew what was happening, a pair of lips was pressed against hers and Robin's long fingers were cradling her head, caressing her hair. She felt him and knew it was he, his strong arms around her and his breath coming quickly, brokenly. She lost herself in the kiss. It tasted of passion, of desperation perhaps and also of something deep, strong and lasting. As the kiss deepened, she felt the breath leaving her lungs and her whole body turn to liquid. Robin sensed her fall and quickly moved his arms around her waist, supporting her, lifting her closer to his lips.

Forever passed and they were still there, intertwined.

Then they broke apart, gasping for breath as if they had been underwater. Robin's chest was heaving and for a moment he leaned his forehead against hers and she felt his weight, for he needed to steady himself. Rosa finally opened her eyes, trying to discern his expression, but his were closed and he was still panting. Then, without a word or a glance he left, as abruptly as he had come, leaving her swaying in the sudden cold, without his strength for support.

She fingered her swollen lips with reverence and suddenly, she sank to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8: The Princess

CHAPTER 8

THE PRINCESS

Rosa didn't even think of going back to the castle after Robin Hood and his choicest men left to confront the Sheriff's men. For one thing, there would be such a to-do there, what with her father's temper and waiting for news from the guards that no one would notice her missing. And for another, she knew Sir Hugh would realize how dangerous would be fro her to venture alone into the forest at a time like this. If however he should decide to come searching for her, let him come. He surely would not be more lethal than the iron-clad men combing the forest at the moment.

She tried to be calm and not think about the horrible fate that awaited anyone from the green-hooded men, should they fall into the Sheriff's men's hands. Instead, she tried to find some work and was surprised at how many things she could do around the camp.

Time flew while she worked and constantly berated herself for her soft hands, and her pampered body, which was unused to such hard labor. She gritted her teeth and determined never to how much her back hurt or how her fingers were already bleeding. The sun began to lose its splendor and she found out she could no longer see clearly to sew the heavy woolen cloak that she was mending, so she put it aside and glanced around her in the camp. The shadows had lengthened and men were hurrying about, getting ready to prepare the day's meal. But something was different. There were no joyous shouts, nor gentle melodies from Alan's harp. A conspicuous silence accompanied the clatter of knives and pots and even though there were not many men absent, the place had a look of desertedness.

Rosa got up from the bark of the central oak tree painstakingly and approached the man who was usually in charge of the preparation of dinner. Today, however, Friar Tuck, contrary to his usual energetic movements around the camp, was seated in the same place she had seen him hours before, fingering his rosary, his eyes shut and his lips moving. She touched him gently on the shoulder and he opened his eyes. She wanted to ask if there were any news, but one glance at his sad countenance silenced her.

"I do not think I will quit my post just yet, my dear," he told her in his deep, serene voice.

"They do need your prayers, good father," she replied, her heart tightening with fear. She tried to drive it away.

"And yours, too, fair maiden; and yours too."

Rosa looked at him, bewildered. It hadn't entered her mind, with all the worrying she did, that she could add her prayers to that of the friar's. Prayer was reserved for priests; or at least for when one was inside the church. Wasn't it?

"Anyone can pray to the good Lord, Rose. And He hears," the good friar insisted, as if he had read her mind.

"What words must I say, father?" she asked.

"Those that are in your heart," he answered simply.

So she tried it. They sent her to fill a pail of water and she picked it up and carried it easily to the stream. And as she walked, she thought,

"Please keep them from harm. Please make them safe. Please let no one be injured, or worse… Please, bring Robin back."

She tried to direct her thoughts to God, but she didn't know how. She tired to close her eyes and imagine she was sitting in the closet, beside a priest, but it didn't help. Then she looked up in the sky, and that felt more right. She didn't know who to address her prayer to, but she tried to peek through the thick foliage of trees and think that Someone out there, Someone strong and good, heard them and saw that they were answered.

Soon she reached the water, and all thoughts of prayer flew from her mind as she concentrated on trying to fill the pail with water. It was harder than she had thought possible, for as soon as she lowered it into the gently flowing stream, its weight became unbearable for her slender arms, and she had to turn it sideways, or she would drop it. Thus, she didn't collect more than three inches of water. She bent down and tried to summon all her strength, and by the third effort she managed to stagger upright with the pail full of water. Now she had to carry it, though. She took a deep breath and lifting it with all her might, she tried to take a step. And then another one.

Walking like a drunk, she had made little progress, when she felt the weight lifted off her shoulder and a strong hand support her as she stumbled and almost fell. She turned around in surprise and her heart leaped inside her. It was him.

She almost threw her arms around him in her joy, but stopped herself just in time. The gentle smile that was hovering in his eyes told her that he must have seen her sudden movement, but underneath his mouth was hard and a deep frown was marring his fine brow.

"Master, you're back!" she said, almost dreading the news he brought, even in the midst of all her joy.

"Who made you carry this, is what I would like to know," he said angrily, as if he hadn't heard her. "Is this now they treat you when my back is turned?"

"No, I wanted to help…" she began to say, surprised at his words. Of all the things she had expected to be on his lips when he returned this was not one. "I would hate it if I were treated like some kind of weakling, or worse, like a lady who-"

"You are not a lady," he interrupted her, his black eyes intent on hers in a way that made her heart stop beating for a few seconds. "Not a mere lady," he continued, easily balancing the heavy pail in one hand while he spoke. "You are a princess."

Fear gripped her at his words, fear that he had found out her secret. Had he met someone in the woods who had given her away? Was this the reason that his words came out of his lips with so much intensity and anger?

"I am hardly that, master," she said cautiously, but he spoke again before she was through.

"Yes, you are. In this forest, among Robin Hood's men. Contrary to how _we_ may treat you," and he emphasized the 'we', for what reason she did not know, "you are a true lady here, and far above that."

Relief flooded through her, for even without understanding the exact meaning of his cryptic words, she knew he meant something else than her true status and her birth. Her knees sagged in contrast to the tenseness of her fear before, and he quickly put the pail down with a loud splash to catch her in his arms, for he mistook her relief for weakness and fatigue.

"Rest awhile," he said, his voice a gentle whisper close to her ear, as he eased her on the soft grass, "while I refill this accursed pail and tell me what these brutes have put you through during my absence." He took off towards the stream and was back a mere blink of the eyelash later, shaming all of Rosa's efforts from before.

She smiled wryly to herself, but her mind was still flooded with questions and worries.

"I would rather know what passed in the forest today," she said as soon as he had settled down beside her.

He turned his face away from her slightly, not speaking at once, and as he did she saw a slight scar running the length of his jawbone. The blood on it was dried and it did not appear to be deep, but it bespoke of a danger close enough that frightened her even though it was, for the moment, passed. Watching him, she suddenly realized that a tear was trickling down his sun-burnt cheek and his jaw was working, in an effort to keep more from coming. Slowly she placed her hand on top of his and leaned against his strong arm. To her surprise, he didn't remove his hand.

Then he finally spoke, in a voice trembling and gruff, and she felt her heart breaking for him.

"They took Will," was all he managed to say.

Rosa's heart stopped. That was worse than anyone being injured, and might be worse even than someone being killed.

"I fought," he continued, his voice breaking, "I fought as hard as I knew how. But it wasn't enough. They took him. Alive, of course, I mean. I wish he had been killed."

"No, don't say that, master," she said urgently. "No, you do not wish so, for now there is the hope that you can free him and…"

"You know well there is no hope of that," he said brusquely. "You of all people, living in the castle, you should have heard of tales about the dungeons. That is nigh on impossible."

She had heard tales about the dungeons, and she had even visited a portion of the famous prison. That's why she said what she did next:

"It is impossible for most men. But most men are not Robin Hood."

Robin turned and looked at her, his heart in his eyes. Then he buried his head in her neck and cried in strong, manly sobs that racked his whole body. Rosa held him, helplessly, but soon his emotion subsided and he got on his feet, after gently holding her against him for a second.

She got up next to him and he retrieved the pail in one easy movement. Then he started walking in measured strides, so that she could follow his pace easily. Suddenly, he turned to face her.

"Rose," he said and stopped.

"Yes, master?" she asked, still feeling a little shaky from they way they had touched only moments ago.

"You will not leave my side when we go out there, and I will have to face them, will you?"

"I will not," she answered, trying to still her racing heart, but to no avail.

"Good," he said.

Afterwards, he insisted that it would be too dangerous for her to spend another night in the forest and almost forced her on her horse, just a few moments after sundown. Rosa did not protest overly, loath though she was to leave, because she knew the danger of which he spoke was far greater for himself and his men if she stayed.

As she mounted her horse, her spirits were very low for she feared that had been her last excursion into the forest. For all she knew tomorrow could be her wedding day, and the execution of Will Scarlet a wedding present from her father to Sir Hugh. She shuddered violently at this thought, and Robin noticed.

"You are cold," he said reproachfully and quickly removed his cloak to put it around her shoulders. Rosa wanted to protest, for she thought the reproach was for her, but she knew if she spoke, the tears that were gathered in her eyes would finally spill.

But to reproach her was as far from Robin's mind as anything. He still berated himself for that kiss. He had so worried about keeping her safe, and had finally gone and done such a dishonorable thing himself. He had mentally kicked himself a thousand times since this morning.

But he had felt so afraid when he had ridden into the forest that day. It had been worse than he had let everyone believe. They had faced death this day, and he had known beforehand that it would be so. Will's capture had been the Sheriff's men's prize, and they had left them alone after that, not willing to risk their lives to unseen arrows anymore. That's why the rest of the merry men had escaped unscathed. But their enemies had now Will to use as a bait, to torture, to plan to execute again and again until Robin could bear it no more and would go and try to free him. And then they would catch them all. Except… Rose had said she believed he could do it. Was it possible he could once again fool the Sheriff, especially now that he seemed to hold them in his hand? No, the girl simply overestimated his strength. It was a consolation, nevertheless.

Yes, he had been afraid that morning and for good reason. But he had faced danger, even certain death, before. And it was always with a smile on his face, mocking death even as it approached. What had changed now?

It was she, he knew it. She was the reason he was afraid. From the first day he had seen her, even dressed as a boy, he had known fear, fear he had sworn he never would feel again. Fear for her safety; fear that he would lose her. Fear that he would never lay eyes on her lovely face again, or that he would never be heartened by her courageous words again. That's what had made him turn his horse around and take her in his arms. Hungrily he had kissed her, desperately, and he was ashamed of himself now to remember it, for she had been a maiden sweet and innocent before he had dishonored her in such a coward's way; but it was true.

It was true that it was because of her kiss that he had fought like a lion, that he had rushed from one group of his men to the other and back, that he had been everywhere at once, defending his men like a bear awakened from his sleep. It was with the taste of her sweet lips on his that he defied death and didn't care whether he ever got back to the roaring fire of the camp. It was a kiss worth dying for.

But he had been wrong to take it from her. And when he got back, and saw her struggling like a common maidservant, with a pail large enough to fit her whole inside, his anger had exploded. It was true, she _was_ indeed a servant, but to him she was a princess, a queen even, someone to revere and serve and protect. What was he doing to her by encouraging her visits? Putting her in grave danger and risking her reputation and even her virtue itself, as of today.

And now she was cold.

Was it not enough that she counted her life as naught so as to serve him that he would knowingly endanger her health too?

He took of his heavy green cloak and fastened it around her slender white neck, trying not to come in contact with her velvet skin, his fingers trembling with anger directed at himself. The least he could do was try to keep his filthy hands away from her, he thought to himself. He didn't dare even look at her, but he knew he couldn't resist for long. So he turned to face her and saw that she was fighting against tears.

He froze. His horse stumbled to a stop and he felt like laying himself at her feet and begging her to forgive him. She stopped a few paces ahead of him and turned questioning eyes to his face.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked, his voice strange, hoarse, unrecognizable.

"I think you are too," she retorted.

Robin hung his head in shame. She was right, he thought. He had no right to ask her, especially since he knew he was the source of her distress.

"I have good reason to," he replied, still not looking at her, wondering about how he could ever apologize to her.

"My heart aches for your cousin, master, too, but worry not, I am sure-"

Her gentle voice, trying to console him, made him feel even guiltier. He spoke fast, not being able to bear her kindness.

"It is my regret and shame that more pains me right now, fair maiden. My cousin's fate is at least not of my own making."

"Regret for what?" she sounded truly perplexed and shocked. Ah, I should have known she would not hold it against me, he thought.

"I did today something despicable, something beyond dishonor. I swear to you, fair Rose, if I had seen another man do what I did to you this morning, he would not have lived to see the sunup," he said with sudden vehemence, thinking suddenly that he might yet do it.

Rosa's mouth almost dropped open and her eyes went round with surprise for a minute. She had thought he had forgotten all about it. But then she understood. The tears finally run down her face, as she realized his contempt for her weakness.

Robin saw her tears, and disgusted with himself, threw his legs over from the saddle and flew into the forest on foot, not willing to let her see the violence of his remorse.

Thus they stood, he writhing in anger and shame a few steps further, almost entirely concealed by the darkness, she frozen atop her horse, both misunderstanding the other, and wasting their few precious moments together.

Rosa spoke at last, her voice low and timid, but Robin heard, for even as he ran from her his ears were alert to her voice and he was prepared to rush at her side, at any sign of distress from her.

"Forgive me master, for my impulse earlier this morning, it was only my fear for your safety that drove me to…"

"Forgive _you_?" Robin cut her off and came to stand next to her horse in a few long strides, not believing his ears. "Forgive you, my sweet maiden, you who have nothing but goodness and bravery in your heart? Forgive you your patience with the manners of a boar like me? Or forgive you your maidenhood and the sweet spell you have cast upon me ever since I first saw you? No, it is I who must beg your forgiveness for acting like a cad, for forcing myself upon you." He stopped as fiercely as he had begun, resisting the urge to fall on one knee before her, like a serf.

Rosa was looking at him wonderingly, but her face slowly bloke into a smile so lovely it made his heart ache.

"I thought you regretted it, master," she said simply, rendering him speechless once more. "No, there is no need for you to apologize. Indeed, I must thank you, for my first kiss was given me by a man I so greatly admire and respect."

His face turned up to hers, his eyes watering with an emotion he had never felt before in his life, Robin Hood slowly sank to his knees in front of the red-headed maiden, seated regally at her horse. He stayed there, speechless, until Rosa dismounted and knelt before him, too, her eyes locked with his. They stared at each other, a million words passing silently between them.

Then Robin lifted his hand to tenderly caress her cheek and she closed her eyes, savoring it. He leaned yet closer and whispered in a trembling voice,

"Your first kiss, you said? That was your first kiss, my maid? I regret that it was taken and not given by your own free will."

"Oh but it was," Rosa replied, her own arms moving to embrace him. "As is this."

When she leaned in, too, and they kissed, Robin felt the wetness of tears on his cheeks again. It was strange that this mere slip of a girl should move him so deeply, should steal his thoughts and his breath, should draw tears from his eyes and blood from his heart, merely at the mention that she wanted to kiss him. But so it was.

Once again, they sunk into each other, their lips meeting and their hearts soaring to the skies. They shared an intimacy neither had thought possible before, not knowing that from a spot well-concealed somewhere amid the thick bushes, they were being watched.


	9. Chapter 9: Festival

**Author's note**** : **_Thanks a million to everyone who may have read, alerted or favorited this story, especially to__ fairytaleluver and to AlwaysInLoveWithTheVillain for reviewing and encouraging me greatly. This story has been in my mind for a long long time, and you guys are the reason I keep writing it. Thanks to you all._

CHAPTER 9

FESTIVAL

Ben pushed his sandy hair away from his face with an impatient gesture. His limbs felt a bit numb after crouching down among the bushes for so long, but it had been worth it.

He glanced towards the lady's grey horse, as it vanished around a bend on the way to the castle. It was too late now to go there himself, he decided. His news could wait for the morrow, as well as the generous payment from the lady with the yellow hair. She was dressed beautifully; even more so than Lady Rosa on festivals, but there was a kind of evil in her eyes that frightened him. But she had promised him a lavish reward if he brought her the information she was after, and his father would welcome the money. Ben himself could do with an additional bite of bread, or maybe even a chunk of meat in the broth. At twelve years old, he wasn't the eldest of his siblings but he looked more like seven. Underfed and poorly clothed, he wasn't unlike most children of the village. And with winter coming soon, he considered himself lucky to have found even this small source of income. If he played his cards smartly, he might make it last a bit longer.

Rosa snuck into the stables, the sweetness of Robin's kiss still lingering on her lips. She dismounted, her legs suddenly stiff and aching with fatigue, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt strong arms enfolding her, pulling her against a stone-hard chest.

"Hush!" a voice said, before she began to scream. She relaxed against him, suddenly angry.

"What do you want?"

"Forgive me, my lady, I only wanted to make sure of your safe return."

"Well, I am perfectly safe, as you can see," she replied more calmly, regretting her harsh tone of before.

"Rosa- my lady," Sir Hugh corrected himself, turning her to face him in the darkness, but not releasing her one bit from his fierce embrace, "I was so afraid… I didn't know…"

Finally he released her and seemed to straighten up to his full height, his features becoming further obscured in the darkness as he did so.

"I should tell you, my lady, warn you rather, your father seems exceptionally angry about the whole outlaw business, he is more intent on revenge than ever…"

"I know," she said simply, her mind on Will Scarlet. Sir Hugh looked at her intently, his eyes searching hers.

"I am not sure I understand what you are referring to, but I meant to speak of the danger for _you_. The Sheriff seems to have some information or some inkling of your affairs. He is not inclined to show mercy to anyone."

"I do not expect any," she said, a bitter edge to her voice.

"I thought I might bear it to lose you to the forest. I still don't know. But I most certainly will not lose you to the noose!" His voice was hard now, eager, intense, loud.

"I am not yours to lose, Sir Hugh. Please remember that."

With this, she went to get her much-needed sleep. She awoke late the next morning to the sound of bells ringing from the St. John the Baptist's church.

Her maid, Helena had already laid out one of her best garments to wear, and was now coming hurrying through the door to wake her. Rosa however seemed to have no inclination to rise. Half-raised on her pillow, she was gazing out of the small window to the blue sky with an inscrutable expression on her face.

"What is all the commotion about?" she asked after a couple of minutes.

Helena paused in her scurrying about the room.

"Did you not hear my lady? Your father has declared today a day of festivities."

Rosa tried to conceal her shudder beneath the covers. Her worst fears were being realized.

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"I thought maybe you could tell us that, my lady. No one else seems to have any idea what we are supposed to be celebrating. Except for the merchants, of course… They are celebrating the prospect of filling their pockets…"

Helena seemed to expect some kind of answer from her mistress, but Rosa wasn't listening. She seemed to be considering something intently and then she flung her covers aside hurriedly and ran outside, her white shift billowing behind her and Helena shouting in protest. In no time at all she was on the balustrade, gazing down towards the village. Soon enough she saw what she was looking for and she stood for a moment motionless, her mind racing ahead. Then she turned around and went back to bed.

"I will not come down today, I think, Helena. I feel unwell," she said, her rosy cheeks belying her words.

"You do?" Helena asked somewhat suspiciously.

"If someone asks, I do," Rosa answered coolly.

"Very well, my lady."

"And please see to it that no one looks for me during the festival."

Helena nodded and went about her business praying to all the saints that her mistress would be safe whatever she was scheming about this time.

Rosa leapt out of her bed once more and got dressed swiftly. Then she sat down on her bed, thinking. For a moment, all she could see in her mind was the scaffold she had seen from the balustrade, rough and ugly, built overnight on a wooden platform right in the middle of the festival. Around it, red and blue archery tents were being raised and the merchants were already laying their goods in display beside their carts. The Sheriff's plan was pretty obvious and she didn't have enough time to go to the forest and warn the outlaws about the trap. Which they could almost certainly guess, she knew. But they wouldn't shy away from rescuing Will either, no matter the danger.

Most probably the Sheriff was planning on keeping Will inside the prison while the archery contest lasted, hoping to lure the merry men who would come for him there and thus to catch them. The prison would be doubly guarded even now; there was no doubt about it. Of course, if Robin's men failed to show up during the games, he would bring Will out to the hangman. That would certainly provoke them to come forth. For a minute, all Rosa could do was worry about Robin. What if he took it into his thick head that there was nothing for it but he must come in person? And his head _was_ thick at times. Then she remembered Friar Tuck's words from yesterday and she tried to pray. But she was so scared for him, she could hardly think. It had been bad enough, she thought, knowing that last night was the last time he would see her as his friend. But how could she ever go on living knowing that he was no more?

She quickly checked her thoughts. She would not be of any help to them at all if she succumbed to this despair. She tried to think as Robin would, with his eternal optimism and his shiny smile, but it wasn't so easy without the tall trees around her or the soft brown earth beneath her feet. She tried to stay still and repeat some words in her head, like a chant. _Please help them, God, please help me help them_. That seemed to calm her enough that she could think coherently.

Slowly a plan began to take form in her mind. She got up and headed towards the small window. Bending down slightly, she pressed the wall with precision and a small hidden compartment slowly appeared. She swiftly took something from there and shut it back in the wall. Concealing the small glass bottle among her skirts, she left her quarters, the halls around her seemingly ringing with the determination of her steps.

Descending to the kitchens, Rosa quickly grabbed a chunk of bread without sitting down to eat breakfast properly. She walked around distractedly until her eye caught the barrels that were filled with ale, standing close to the doors, ready to be moved outside. The Sheriff liked to be thought of as generous, at least for as long as the festivities lasted, so he provided about a dozen barrels full of free ale for the villagers' benefit every time there was a festival in Nottingham. The villagers drank every drop of it with glee, forgetting for the moment that he made them pay in blood for every cup they drank, later in taxes.

Rosa quickly singled one out and towed it aside from the rest using all her strength. When she was sure she wouldn't confuse which one it was, she opened the wooden cover slightly and poured inside the entire contents of the little glass bottle. She closed it again, all in one quick movement that remained unobserved form the busy kitchen-maids.

Then she went to the stables to find Jo. He looked at her suspiciously as soon as he heard what she wanted.

"Make sure that you do not pick the wrong one. I have singled it out of the rest, it is pretty obvious which one I mean. Oh, and if anyone asks any questions, you are to say that it was my orders," she added quickly.

"Are you sure you want to do this milady?" he asked again. "I am not only worried about my safety, but about yours."

"I am sure. Thank you, Jo, I will not forget it," she said simply, not bothering to assure him of her own safety. For one thing she wasn't assured of it at all, but the truth was she wasn't even concerned about it.

"It will be there, my lady, as soon as I can find another to help me carry it." For a minute he seemed to want to add something more, but he pressed his lips together and watched her walk briskly away. He shook his head after her and went away, calling to a skinny lad he could see in the distance.

Rosa walked around the gardens to the back side of the castle, trying to school her features into calmness.

The ugly stench of sickness and misery assailed her as soon as she walked in through the heavy gates of the prison. The guards knew her, of course, and drew their weapons aside to let her pass, and she walked along confidently, no trace of the disgust and pain she felt on her face.

A mere quarter of the hour later she had finished her business and was walking back to the castle, her heart light and hopeful. Suddenly, she bumped into something so strong and hard that she would have stumbled and fallen if two arms hadn't reached out to steady her.

"My lady!" a familiar voice said and once again she looked into Sir Hugh's brooding countenance.

"Sir Hugh," she answered, mimicking his tone.

"I heard you were unwell," he said.

"Did you?" suddenly she had no patience with him.

"I was hoping fervently, praying even, that it was not true, but I suddenly find myself wishing that it were, rather…"

"Why the sudden change?"

"Do you not realize, my lady, in how much danger you are deliberately putting yourself?"

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked innocently, abandoning her sarcastic tone.

"It does not take much thought to put two and two together," he answered severely, his gaze travelling to the iron prison gates and back. Rosa sighed, exasperated.

"What is it to you, good sir, if I choose to help save a man's life?"

"A criminal's, you mean. A robber's."

"I do not expect you and me to think alike in this on in any other matter."

Sir Hugh opened his mouth to speak, but he changed his mind. He bent his head down low, reaching as close as he could to the level of her eyes, and the intensity in his nearly stopped her heart. He took her hands in his, for a moment gripping them so hard it hurt her.

"Is there any chance that you will be in grave danger today? Please tell me… You know I would put everything aside, our differences, even my honour," at this Rosa lifted one eyebrow, but he went on as if he hadn't noticed "to come to your aid. Please tell me the truth this once."

"There will be no cause for you to put your questionable honour aside, I assure you, Sir Hugh."

He put his fist on his mouth, as if trying to keep himself from speaking. Then he took her by the shoulders and simply looked at her, searching her face intently.

"What is it?" she asked, puzzled.

"Nothing. I was trying to see… to memorize…" he stopped, distracted.

"Well, since you seem so concerned, I will tell you that the only thing I did was donate one barrel of ale to the prison guards. I was only just in there, explaining to the chief that my father would like them to partake in the festivities in this way, not leaving the premises of course, but since everyone will be at the festival, it wouldn't hurt for them to drink a cup… That was all."

He let go of her abruptly, wondering what she was planning to do.

"I would be honour bound to tell the Sheriff of this," he said harshly.

"Then do," Rosa replied, a challenge in her eyes.

Sir Hugh scrutinized her face for a minute, then, surprisingly, he smiled.

"You seem to think little of my honour, princess, and even less of my affection for you," he said and his voice was tender like she had heard it only once before. "Would that it were not so, but I cannot do anything to help it, can I?"

"You are mistaken, my lord. I think little of your honour, it is true. But as for what you call 'affection' for me, I mistrust it, but more than that, I despise it. I think of it as your weakness. And mine."

"Yours? How?" he sounded hopeful.

"I am ashamed to think I have seemingly won so unworthy an admirer."

Silence, hard as light to a sleeping eye, followed her cruel statement. Before her eyes, Sir Hugh drew himself up and his face became dark and stony once again.

"I see," he said finally, ice dripping from his words. "Then I have only to bid you farewell, my lady." And with one final look in her direction, he left.

Sometime later, while she was waiting anxiously in her room, she thought about why she had spoken thus to him. She regretted her cruelty a bit, but nothing that she had spoken to him was untrue. She had thought of him as a man of dishonor and deceit before, but now, knowing as she did that a man was facing his death this very day and Sir Hugh did nothing to prevent it, she was disgusted with him. Even more so when she thought about the trap that was waiting Robin's men, maybe even Robin himself. She was sure that if Sir Hugh hadn't been instrumental in the hatching of the plan, then he had at least been privy to it.

As for the fact that she had revealed to him part of her plan, she wasn't worried about him betraying her. She knew if her father discovered her treason, a dark cell would be her fate at the very least. And Sur Hugh was too infatuated with her to risk that. For a moment she thought that if he was true to some belief, if he had at least shown signs of revealing to her father that she was a traitor in their midst, she would at least respect him. She as well as Robin Hood would be in deep trouble right now, too. So it was a good thing, after all, she mused.

Then she turned her thoughts to the little dark stinky cell, two levels below the ground where she had last seen Will Scarlet. Was he still there? Had her pan failed? For a minute she shut her eyes against the memory. When she had approached his cell, he had been asleep on the ground, a ball of misery and pain, and she hadn't wanted to wake him. She had only slipped her arm through the iron bars and concealed her small knife between his clothing. He would find it when he awoke and put it to good use, she knew. She wished she had been able to carry a larger weapon, but that short knife was all she could secret away in her dress. Scarlet would know how to cause serious damage with even that, she was certain.

The agony of waiting was almost too much to bear, but she tried praying to God again and it helped pass along the time a bit quickly. Not soon enough, but at least not so torturously.

Robin lowered his bow after his almost twentieth successful attempt at the bull's eye. He had won more than half-a-dozen archers and was starting to get bored by the game. But he had a role to play, so he smiled at the cheering crowd with pride. While his opponent, a rather opulent merchant from Darby, shut his one eye to focus on the target, Robin let his gaze drift to the left, where the grey walls of the castle were discernable in the distance. _Maybe that's where my love is right now_, he thought. Then he berated himself. First of all, she wasn't his, he reasoned. He might have scoured the crowds repeatedly since they had arrived a couple of hours ago, searching for a glimpse of her fiery hair, but he had discovered no sigh of her.

Secondly, he should concentrate on concealing his features behind his crimson hood, while winning this accursed archery contest, which by the looks of it, would be no trouble at all. He would be creating a stir with his abilities, while Little John and Matt sneaked away to the prisons. Hopefully, there would be enough of a distraction created already by the accolade of the golden arrow by the time all hell broke loose.

They had been really careful, wearing disguises that would help them blend in with the crowd, even though Little John's dimensions were a little hard to conceal. But they had decided that only three would come and John's strength was incomparable. They wouldn't be able to pull this through without it. Robin lifted his bow again and the crowd cheered with all its might.

Then, as he lowered it again and another hopeful contestant took his place beside him, he noticed something peculiar in the crowd. Someone was waving a small blue flag, which wasn't quite unusual, but that someone who was waving it seemed to be an exceptionally tall, sturdy man. It was Little John. Beside him was Matt the Miller's son, who was beginning to stand out among the crowd, for he was not wearing the coarse brown cloak he had arrived to the village in. Instead, the cloak was resting on the shoulders of a lean, stooped man with a haggard-looking face, which he was trying to hide by bending it down. Robin looked closely. There was no doubt about it. It was Will.

As soon as Little John saw that Robin had seen them, he lowered the flag and looked straight ahead. The crowd was beginning to shout. It was Robin's turn. He turned towards the target again. His opponent had sent his arrow close enough to the red circle in the middle, but he was not even a challenge to Robin. It would be such waste, he thought now, to lose that golden arrow. Something unbelievable had happened, but his three friends did not seem to be pursued at all. Sure, John looked anxious to be gone, but after all he had a former prisoner by his side. Robin's lips turned up to a smile even at the mere thought of the Sheriff's face when he found out that his precious prisoner was gone with no one being the wiser about it and that Robin Hood was safe in the forest showing off his prize to his robbers. He raised his bow determined to win.

Then a thought crossed his mind.

The girl. Rose. He wasn't sure exactly what he thought right then, whether he considered what he would do if it was she who was the prisoner just freed from the Sheriff's claws, or that he didn't want to endanger his chances of seeing her again. He only knew that her face appeared in his mind, sweet, smiling and fresh, and he suddenly knew without any doubt what he would do.

He let the feathered arrow go with terrible precision and it sliced the wood of the target just half an inch wide of his opponent's arrow. The crowd murmured in disappointment as the man beside him stood dumbfounded at his unbelievable luck.

Robin disappeared in the crowd, unnoticed, as everyone's attention was now turned to the other archer.


	10. Chapter 10: The Carriage Ride

**a****uthor's note**_**: **__a million thanks to you all who have been reading this story and especially to Josiah Marshall, Draggonflymaiden, alwaysinlovewiththevillain and lauramichca for their encouraging reviews. Sorry for taking a bit too long on this chapter… summer got in the way… _

_More__ specifically:_

_Josiah: I love Robin Hood too (obviously) and thank __you__ for reading this. _

_Draggonfly: I regret to say I have not yet seen the new RH movie, so I don't actually have Russell Crowe in mind. I have a combination of faces, made up of people I have met and know and of a bit of imagination too. You can picture whoever works for you, that's what I always do, and I will let you know the minute I watch the film.__ Thanks for saying you love it…._

_Always: thanks so much, I appreciate it._

_Laura: I couldn't agree more on your comment, I too hate it when he is pictured as a cocky show-off. I try to keep the balance between his legendary abilities and a maturity that would make possible all his achievements. Thanks for reading and commenting, it means a lot to me._

_All of you who leave comments, be sure that I check out your profiles and stories. Thanks again. _

CHAPTER 10

THE CARRIAGE RIDE

"Will you tell me what happened, d—n it?" Robin asked, swearing under his breath. They were so impossibly annoying. He looked sideways at the three, walking swiftly in the shadows, Will supported easily between the other two.

He knew their laughter tried to disguise their relief at having their friend alive and safe in their midst once more, but enough was enough.

In spite of his repeated questions and pleas to stop, however, Little John and Matt didn't stop guffawing even for a minute. That's how it had gone, from the minute they were safely concealed among the thick trees of Sherwood Forest. They were laughing at him and teasing him for failing to win the tournament. Robin was beginning to think that he would have to give them their share of blows, since they had apparently received none in Nottingham.

"It was the strangest thing," Will said finally, his breath coming a bit labored and the other two sobered abruptly. He looked haggard and pale, more like he would have looked after having spent a month in prison than a mere night. But Robin knew the Sheriff reserved 'special' treatment for his men. He tortured them inhumanly, not only because he hoped one of them might crack, but also because he needed to vent his anger and hatred. Little John turned and looked him in the eye. Will would relate everything to them soon enough, but neither Robin nor John were eager to know the monstrosities Scarlet had faced in the dungeon.

Little John cleared his throat and, abandoning his merry banter, continued what Will had started saying.

"They were asleep," he said, not even now fully believing in their good luck. "We snuck in there, secret-like, our fists raised for them, and all we could hear was snoring."

Robin faltered in his step.

"How is that possible?" he asked, frowning with the incredulity of it all.

"There was a barrel of ale," Matt took up the story, "although it was barely half-empty."

"I think it had been tampered with," John said.

"Well, it would have been impossible for a dozen guards to have become drunk to the point of oblivion on half a barrel of ale. So my guess too is there was something in that stuff," Matt supplied.

"But who…?" Robin started to ask.

Matt shrugged.

"That remains to be seen," Little John said. "Who and why."

"It appears we have an unexpected ally," Robin said thoughtfully.

"I don't know, chief, for a minute there it seemed too good to be true," Matt said.

"Yea, we kept looking behind our backs, so sure were we it was another trap." John was silent for a minute, then went on. "You see, the drunken guards were not all."

Robin raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"As we were making our way out of there," Little John continued, "a guard snuck behind me, apparently the only one conscious enough to have heard noises. He bid his time and would have struck me unnoticed by Matt, for we believed ourselves to have escaped them at last. Will saw him, but the man was depending upon the fact that Will would be unarmed. Only … he wasn't."

"You had given him his sword," Robin said.

"No, we hadn't yet," John sighed at the near catastrophe due to his oversight. "I was stupid enough to think that we were safe from the passed out guards and it nearly cost me my life. Mine and all of us." Robin didn't say anything because he was too interested in the story, but he would berate his friend later on his thoughtlessness. "As if by magic, Will produced a small dagger in his hand and saved us all," Little John concluded.

"Robin, I tell you, I am almost thinking it _was_ magic. Or a miracle by the Blessed Virgin," Will said, holding out the slender weapon to Robin, who took it to examine it. "I didn't even know that it was there in my hand until I had need of it."

Robin weighed it in his palm.

"This is no poor man's gift," he said. "Look at the craftsmanship! And the handle is made of silver." He contemplated it against the light of the midday sun for a while and then said, "Come, Will, let's get you fed and clod and see if you can refresh your memory."

"I'm afraid I won't be of much help to you. You see, after they finished pulling me about I fell in the deepest sleep," Will said sadly. Then his face lightened up as he looked at his rescuers. "A sleep from which I thought I would not wake," he added, a whimsical expression on his face.

Robin smiled at him encouragingly and reached out a hand to squeeze his friend's shoulder, trying to conceal his disappointment. But it was just as well that they had no way of knowing who their secret ally was. He suspected he would feel a much greater disappointment if it turned out it wasn't her. Now, that was a crazy idea. How could Rose possibly have access to the prisons, much as she would have wanted to help?

Robin shook his head trying to sand away all thoughts of the girl. If he went on at this rate, he would begin to lose his concentration. This morning he was searching every face for hers and now he was imagining her being their miraculous benefactor. This had to stop. For one thing, too much depended upon his brains, it wasn't safe to be daydreaming. And for another, sweet as the girl was, she would probably slap him in the face for thinking about her all day.

_She may have kissed me_, he told himself with a shiver of happiness_, but what girl would want an outlaw as a suitor?_

At the idea of himself as a suitor, a loud laugh escaped him, but much as his companions would ask him to share the joke with them, he kept his peace.

Rosa didn't get much sleep that night, which was not totally due to the commotion her father's anger was causing. Of course, it would have been almost impossible to quiet down even for a minute amidst all the shouting and banging that rang through the place. But there were other reasons that kept her eyes wide open all throughout the night. For she was thinking of her Robin.

She was so proud of having been able to help the robbers once more, that not even the fact that they were never like to know of it diminished her joy. Indeed, it was better that way, she thought, for she wouldn't have to face their embarrassing gratitude. Of course that was supposing they ever had reason to suspect her of having access to the prisons, which they had no way of doing. This morning she had believed all was lost. But now, hope was rising in her heart fast and unstoppable. Her mind told her that it would be dangerous to take off into the forest tomorrow, but her heart knew that given half the chance, she would take it.

She was lost to the brutal sounds of the castle while imagining seeing Robin's beloved face again and listening to the –all too familiar to her- narration of Will's escape, when the door to her room was thrust loudly open and her father appeared on the dimly lit threshold, still fully dressed.

"Where is he?" he thundered and she quickly drew up the covers. "Never mind that!" he shouted, even more angrily, striding to her bed and bringing his face mere inches to hers.

"Where is who?" she asked, puzzled, and a little afraid. She had never seen him so wild, so out of control.

"Hugh! I can find him nowhere."

"How should I know?" she retorted, annoyed at the remembrance of this individual.

She was surprised by a stinging pain across her cheek. Her father had slapped her. Reeling from the shock and pain, she stared into his eyes, which were boring into hers, hatred and determination shining ugly in them.

"Don't you dare talk back to me, you hussy! And mind, I intend to get to the bottom of this. Believe me, if I find you had any hand in today's sorry events, nothing will stop me from inflicting upon you the punishment for the worst felon!" he grabbed her by the throat and for a minute she really believed he would choke her, but he merely squeezed tight so that it hurt unbearably.

"Now," he went on, a mysterious gleam in his eyes, as if hurting her gave him a sense of satisfaction, "do you still insist you know nothing of Hugh's whereabouts?"

"Yes, sir, I insist. I only know we had an argument of sorts sometime before noon."

"D-n you! I only hope for your sake that you didn't make him leave, with your foolish notions and your wanton wiles." He let go of her and strode determinedly to the door. But before he exited her room, he turned to her and added:

"I trust there is no reason for me to stress to you that you _will_ marry him, eh? Surely you never imagined to refuse him?" he smiled at her and went on sweetly, "No, of course not. Even _you_ have brains enough for that. Even _you_ have some sense of self-preservation."

With that, she was left alone in the darkness again, to stare in space with her thoughts all tangled in her brain and her cheek and neck slowly turning to an ugly purple hue where he had touched her.

It turned out that Sir Hugh was indeed nowhere to be found the next day, and although Rosa could scarcely credit it, she had to realize that the goodbye he had bid her after their fight had been final on his part. She anticipated more shouts and threats from the Sheriff, but was surprised to find a suspicious silence reigning all over the castle. She was even more surprised to find out that the reason for this calm was that her father had been closeted in his rooms since sunup, apparently, with none other than the lady Eloise Cecil, the blond gentlewoman with the steely gaze, who had been after Hugh at the banquet not many days since.

They emerged after a couple of hours and the Sheriff sought his daughter immediately, ordering in no uncertain terms that she was to visit his cousin who resided in Derbyshire, not many miles to the north. Now this was rather sudden and quite unheard of to go on such a visit unplanned and unprepared, but she didn't want to provoke her father further and, no matter how strange and unnatural she found his request, she realized he must want her out of the way to get on with his schemes unhindered. So she went upstairs to get dressed, with half a heart. She put on one of her more expensive garments and tried to conceal the ugly marks on her neck and below her left eye with powder, but they were too fresh and prominent for that. Her maid Helena bustled about her, having sensed the urgency of the Sheriff's orders and not wanting to cause his displeasure, especially since he was apparently waiting in the court to escort his daughter to the carriage himself, as if he wanted to make sure that she would board it.

It was barely ten o' clock in the morning when Rosa was ushered into the golden and light-blue upholstering of the crest-bearing carriage, with no maid to accompany and chaperone her, which she also found strange. She was too wary of her father's unpromising expression to remark on it, though. His face had a strange maliciousness, and Rosa hurried to get inside and away from him, barely noticing as she went in that the groom that was sitting at the front was a rather obscure personage in the service of the castle and not her usual groom, whom she knew quite well.

Anyway, she settled in and sighed a sigh of relief as soon as she saw the gates of the castle falling into the background. Thus she sat for a few minutes and pressed a cool finger to the tender spot beneath her eye, wincing in pain as she did so. They had not even left the village behind them, however, when she was suddenly thrown to the other side of her seat by a very sudden and inexpert movement of the carriage. She struggled to gain her balance while the vehicle seemed to dance about on the road in a strange circle around itself. When things had quieted down a bit and the horses seemed to have gained their pace anew, she opened the window to speak to the driver. What she saw puzzled her even more. They had turned around and were galloping at quite a pace in the exact opposite direction. Soon enough, it became apparent that they were heading towards Sherwood Forest.

Rosa tried to shout her questions to the groom, but he seemed not to hear her. She gave up and sat as far back on the cushions as she could, praying with all her might that they would pass unnoticed by the band of outlaws. She could hardly think why the driver, obviously obeying her father's orders had taken this course or where she was being taken, but one thing she knew for sure. The green-clad robbers were not likely to pass on the opportunity of stopping an opulent carriage, bearing the crest of the Sheriff. Was this where her charade would end?

Once more she remembered the good Friar's words and tried to call on God, but she checked herself as soon as she remembered that she was the liar here, she was the deceiver, and she had no right to ask for divine assistance.

The trees thickened all around them and the horses dropped their pace, as if provoking someone to discover them. And then it happened.

"Halt good friend and let us greet your master!" a deep, beloved voice boomed merely a few paces ahead. It sounded so cheerful, so confident and had a slightly ironic tilt to it at the end of the phrase. So familiar, too, that it made her heart ache. The horses stumbled to a stop and she closed her eyes, her stomach sick with fear. _This is what fear tastes like_, she thought abstractedly, realizing in the back of her mind that she had never truly felt it until this minute. The door next to her was flung open and she opened her eyes to face the shocked face of Matt.

He froze, his hand stilled in mid-air as he stared at her, his boyish expression of puzzlement slowly turning into fear. Rosa opened her lips, but she really didn't know what to say.

"What's keeping you, Matt?" Robin said, pleasantly. "Don't tell me our good Sheriff has stowed a ghost back there?"

Matt's hand fell away from the door, and without a word he backed away form the carriage. Rosa knew that the time had come. She got up and jumped to the ground. As soon as she gained her balance, her eyes met Robin's. He was standing there, tall, his green hood lowered over his brow, his bow raised in readiness to the groom's head. But as he saw her, a change came over him. A hand flew to uncover his face and as his hood fell from it, Rosa caught her breath at the intensity in his back eyes. It seemed to her he had never looked so handsome, so strong. And so much like a stranger.

He seemed to study her face, her clothes, to try to take it all in. Then, with a look of utter helplessness, he lowered his bow.

"It seems we have made a mistake," Robin said as soon as he found his voice and the sound of it was strange even to him, as if coming from far away, or as if coming from another man. Once more he looked her over. For a minute all he could think was how enchanting she looked in red. How the color of her velvet bodice made her lips look richer and more enticing than ever before. How her eyes shone with excitement. Or was it tears? There was no reason for that; surely she knew he would never dream of harming her.

How strongly her long lashes contrasted against her pale skin! She was too pale, was it because she cared? No, that was not possible. Then his heart stopped, for he noticed the marks on her cheek. Instinctively, he reached out a hand to touch the painful bruise, to caress, to soothe, to heal.

"You are hurt!" he exclaimed, all other thoughts momentarily flying form his mind. And her throat too! Who had dared to touch her velvet skin, to mar it with this ugly blue? His hands clenched his sword in anger, his eyes searching frantically the inside of the carriage for her assailant. But she was oblivious to her injury, it seemed. She just stood there, looking at him, her expression full of wonderment and pain and something else, something he could not identify. He drew himself together.

"Forgive us, my lady," he said, stooping low in a bow to her, trying to steady his voice. "It seems we have made a most unfortunate mistake. We will leave you to continue your journey in peace."

He signaled to Matt, whose jaw had dropped far below what was normal, that they were to make their escape. Suddenly he grew wary and searched the bushes around him with one suspicious glance. It was more than possible that she was followed by the Sheriff's guards. Suddenly anger erupted within him, but even as it did, he knew he had only himself to blame. The girl had forced her way into his forest, into his camp and into his heart. But it was his fault that he had trusted her. Long ago he had vowed to himself never to trust anyone ever again. And it had felt so good being able to trust someone after all this time. But now he would pay for it. He would only fight so that not everyone else would pay also. And pay they would, if he didn't do something quick, with their lives. He turned to go, but was detained by a slender hand on his arm.

He whirled around to face her and almost took her in his arms, so sad did she look, so vulnerable. But he checked himself in time, reminding himself that it was all part of her act. Her hand was still on his arm, trembling like an autumn leaf and he realized that her whole body shook too.

"Please listen to me, master," she said, he voice trembling pitifully.

Gently, for he could not bring himself to use force on her, but determinedly, he shook her off. She seemed about to fall without his support, but he tried to harden his heart.

"There is nothing to say, my lady, except perhaps if I were to once more offer you my profuse apologies. We were under a false impression, it seems. Forgive us, pray."

"No! Do not leave, please, you must know that I would never betray you, master, you must know that everything I have ever told you was the truth!" her eyes were threatening to spill over and she had stretched out her arms pleadingly towards him.

At the back of his mind he wondered why there were no soldiers coming yet and why the driver did not turn on them, since no one was covering him anymore. But he couldn't think of anything with clarity, except for the girl who was begging him to believe her.

"Indeed, m' lady, pray do not be distressed. All there ever was between us to be said has been said this very day by the testimony of the crest on your carriage. Do you deny it?" he raised his brow questioningly, waiting to see what she would say.

"No, no I do not, but confess, dear master, you would never be able to trust me, to let me help you if you knew I was the Sheriff's daughter, would you?"

She looked expectantly up to him, her eyes hopeful, but he was at a loss for words. Reeling between the shock of being called 'dear master' and learning that she was his very enemy's daughter all in one breath, he reached out a hand to a nearby tree for support. He leaned against it, closing his eyes in pain, and hoping to awake from this nightmarish dream. But her soft voice brought him back to the harsh reality.

"I was ever faithful to you, master Robin, and will ever be. In your heart you know it, I'm sure." She turned to Matt. "And you too, Matt. I do not myself understand the circumstances that brought me here today, but I assure you I would have told you the truth as soon as I felt sure it would not hinder me from being one of your company. All I wanted was to offer you an ally from within. All I wanted was to help your cause."

Robin sunk down at the root of the tree, in defeat, but Rosa went on, not daring to approach him, but not wanting to leave him alone with his doubts either.

"Can you deny it, good Robin, that every advice I have given you, every piece of information I have brought over from the castle has been true? Have I ever caused you to go astray or led you to a trap?"

He seemed to be looking away in the distance, but she knew he was listening to her. He must believe her, he must. That was all she could think of.

"Persuade me," he said after a short silence. His voice was quiet, weak, for he had lost all hope, but he so desperately wanted to believe her.

"What?"

"I said, persuade me. Tell me why I should believe you. Show me a reason, a fact, anything I will not be able to doubt, and I will believe you were true."

Rosa studied him, the way his dark hair feel in disarray over his brow, his sudden pallor, the strong hands clenching and unclenching in agony. And then she knew. She drew herself up and summoning up the last of her courage, she said as calmly as she could:

"What would be the use? I have broken bread with you, I have faced danger at your side, I have cried with you, I have ridden alone to you through this forest. And still you will not believe me. Even if I had this fact that you ask of me, I would not want to be believed for that, but for my own sake. I know you have had to be very careful and to mistrust many who have wished you harm over the years. And I know I have lied to you and for this I am sorry. But if you cannot trust your own heart, then what hope is there? For you, for me, or for your men? Or for this land, indeed…" with this, she turned to go, leaving the tears to flow unhindered on her cheeks.

As she walked blindly back to the carriage, she stumbled. She would have fallen, too, for she did not care enough to pull herself up. But Robin leapt to his feet as soon as he saw that she had difficulty walking straight. He had caught her before he realized what a mistake that was. For now he didn't want to let her go, ever. He held her tightly to him for an instant, his finger brushing away her tears before he could stop himself.

"I need to believe you so badly, Rose," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes boring into hers. "Please."

"I need you to believe me, too," she said simply, tears still flowing.

"Do not cry so, I can't bear it," he said and his voice broke.

She looked up to him, eyes luminous, lips moist, and he suddenly realized how much power this slip of a girl had over him.

"You have me under your spell," he said hoarsely, fighting with himself to release her.

He forced himself to let her go when he saw that she wouldn't say anything more, taking this as a proof of her guilt, and was not surprised at the sudden chill he felt when she was out of his touch.

She bent to let the steps down and mounted without a word. The driver started the horses as if on cue and they went on, leaving the two men behind them to become two insignificant shadows, immobile in the sunshine.

As soon as they reached a clearing not a mile down the road, the groom turned the team around once more, clumsily like the first time. But this time Rosa didn't even notice.

It was only when she saw that they were arriving back at the castle, a bit later, that she began to suspect what her hurried 'visit' had been all about. Was it possible that her father had sent her into the forest for the express purpose of uncovering her secret? But how had he got wind of it? That however would explain the strange groom's inaction all the while she was talking to Robin. He must have been summoned as a witness. _At any rate_, she thought, _I will find out soon enough_.

But she didn't.

All she found was two guards roughly shaking her door open and dragging her out as soon as they arrived at the courtyard. Under the hateful stare of her father, the guards bound her hands in a thick iron chain and dragged her, best gown and all, into the prison. She hit her head hard when they threw her into a cell two stories under the ground and lost consciousness for an indefinite period of time.

When they revived her, she had no way of knowing what time of day it was, for she was in almost complete darkness. And the only reason they had aroused her was to try and glean from her the information they wanted about the band of outlaws. Her father was there too, telling her he knew it for a fact that she knew where the outlaws' camp was situated. A certain informant of his had seen her coming and going, he said. Rosa lifted her chin, although her head still ached horribly, in defiance. Her father signaled to the guards and they picked her up from the foul-smelling floor of the dungeon.

They took her to the torture chamber.


	11. Chapter 11: The Dungeon

_**Author's note**__: I want to apologize for taking so long to write this chapter and promise you that it will not happed again. I was caught up writing something else, but there is absolutely no excuse fro neglecting this story, which is my favorite story of all. Thank you so much for your patience and for continuing to read this, even though I must have disappointed you. _

_Your comments are the greatest encouragement, you know that._

_Lauramuchca, I loved that you got what I did there, that I really wanted him to trust her for herself and not because she could produce undeniable evidence. I didn't have Ivanhoe in mind per se, but I made up the basics of this story in my teen years, when I was reading mainly classical literature, and so it is greatly influenced by the romantic and ethical principles of El Sid and the likes._

_Draggonflymaiden, I finally watched the latest RH and I have to tell you that my Robin couldn't be any further from Russell Crowe's. I picture mine as more gentlemanlike, cleaner__, tenderer and definitely younger. However, as I said before, you are free to imagine him as you like, that's what I always do when I read a story, regardless of the author's opinions _

_I may upload some drawings I have made of Robin and Rosa as I picture them. Until then, thank you again all and enjoy. _

CHAPTER 11

DUNGEON

Robin and Matt were left motionless, staring into the distance until the carriage bearing the traitorous girl disappeared, their minds both reeling with the catastrophic possibilities of what they had only now discovered.

They knew not how long they stood there, the sun sending the shadows from the leaves on them at different angles, their boots rooted to the ground, until Robin suddenly shook himself to life. The urgency of their situation hit him with full force and he started running, his step brisk and decided, back where they had come from. Matt followed him, still dazed.

They reached the almost deserted camp shortly and Robin belatedly realized that in his haste to hurry back he had forgotten to give the signal for danger. He took out his horn and blew for all he was worth.

Not surprisingly, Little John was the first to arrive, sweating and panting, his brow furrowed anxiously.

"You all right, chief?" he asked before he had even gotten very close.

"I am John, but I doubt I will be for very long."

Something in his leader's dejected look and sad eyes told Little John sooner than Robin's words ever could that they were in serious trouble.

"Let me slay them, whoever it is, chief, I beg of you," he shouted vehemently, his hand reaching for his sword.

Robin laughed mirthlessly and dropped on the grass. He suddenly felt exceptionally tired.

"Save your strength to defend yourself and your mates, John," he replied. "You will need it."

The men were slowly beginning to gather around them, their lips silent and set at the solemnity of the situation, as they saw it depicted on their leader's face. Robin surveyed them trying to find the words in which to tell them that they were all lost. He hadn't made a very good work of being their leader, after all.

"Good men of Sherwood forest," he said finally, when he could delay no longer. "We have this very day been betrayed."

Silence cold as death met his words. He hung his head with shame.

"I cannot spare the time or the strength to tell you all the details of the circumstances, for even now the Sheriff's men are upon us, making their way to this part of the forest which is no longer a secret to them. I am afraid the fault was all mine, but more on that later. The traitor must have reached the enemy already, I am afraid," he added, tasting the word 'traitor' and finding it sour.

The men were watching him, no one daring to raise a question, observing the set of his mouth, the darkness of his brow.

"We will right now, gather only our cloaks and flee to another part of the forest. See that those who need help to move will be aided swiftly, for there is no time to lose. Everything else, even our gold," he went on as he saw the silent objection forming in Little John's eyes, "will be left here, as we value it far less than our own lives. We may return tomorrow to inspect the damage."

The men got up reluctantly but urgently and filed out of the clearing. John, too. Left alone, Robin stared at the empty space and, suddenly, clutched at his heart, as if it had stung him sharply, painfully.

She didn't know how time went by in the tiny cell. She didn't eat, she didn't sleep. She had no name. Her whole body was a mass of pain, blood and bruises. At first she pictured Robin's face while they tortured and questioned her and struck her. But not any more. Even that was too much effort. Even that hurt too much.

All she could think of any more was, _I don't want to die here. I don't want to die in the darkness. Please let me die in the sunlight, beneath the trees._

Then, in the agony of the pain, fading in and out of consciousness, struggling to breathe, she forgot even that.

Robin didn't sleep that night. All his senses were alert to any noise, however faint, that would alert him to danger. He watched and listened and blamed himself all night long, refusing to think about her.

Morning came struggling from the east and he got on his feet impatiently.

He only took Little John with him. John had asked no questions until now, but somehow he could sense that his friend's despair went beyond their immediate danger. Now he saw that Robin could hardly contain himself until he went back to their camp and though he knew it was greatly unwise, he didn't hesitate a moment in following him.

As they approached with careful, silent steps, the place seemed eerily calm to their suspicious ears. In a while, however, they could not doubt that there was absolutely no sign of a nocturnal visit. Every little stone, every blade of grass seemed to be in the exact place they had been when the company had hurriedly left the day before.

If only to be sure, John walked to the small shack they had built to shelter in their acquired gold. It was all there, untouched by brutal hands. They inspected every inch, the women's tents. If there had been any visitors surely there would remain some mark of their presence behind. Bu there was nothing.

"This is unlike you, chief," John said matter-of-factly, while plopping down by the remains of an old fire.

"What is?" Robin asked absently, his mind still trying to fathom the meaning of this.

"The false alarm. The warning without a cause."

"Who says it was without a cause?" he spun angrily around.

John laughed his boyish laugh.

"This is rich, Robbie," he shouted with mirth, but for once Robin didn't share in.

"You may enjoy your throat while it is still in its proper place," he said dryly, but there was bitterness in his voice, that made John stop laughing and sit up.

"Will you tell me?" he asked simply.

Robin sighed tiredly.

"It was Rose," he said. "Matt and I held up her carriage while she was riding through the forest."

"Her what? The little country maid? _That_ Rose?"

Robin laughed harshly.

"She was riding a carriage with the Sheriff's coat of arms painted on its door. Turns out she's his daughter."

"What! But he has no daughter."

"Well, he used to, and then they said she was ill or died. Apparently, she did not. Mayhap he was scheming this the whole time he kept her hidden."

Silence fell between the two men. Each was lost in his own thoughts for several long moments. Then,

"Rosa." John said. "That was her name, I think; I've been wracking my brains to remember it. Spanish like, or something. They said her mother was kin to the king, but she, too disappeared. He could have killed her, couldn't he?"

"Rose, Rosa. It was right before our eyes the whole time, wasn't it?" Robin said mournfully. "I was such a fool, John. Such a desperate fool."

"She found her way in all our hearts, chief," John said quietly. "It wasn't only you. But…"

"What?"

"I can't imagine how it was for you when you found out."

Robin didn't speak for a long minute.

"I died," he said.

John simply nodded.

"That's what I thought," he said. "There's something that doesn't quite fit, Robbie," he went on in a minute, "I don't think we have it quite right."

"What is there to mistake?"

"Well, for one thing, she didn't seem the traitorous type, if you know what I mean. Her eyes were too honest for that."

"Too honest or too pretty?" Robin asked, speaking more to himself than to him. "Too d—n beautiful and she blinded me."

"We were not all besotted," John said indignantly, "and we would have seen something, if there was something to be seen. She was clear, I tell you, through and through. There wasn't a mean bone in her whole body. She would have died for us, if need be, I always had the impression. For you she certainly would have died."

Robin was silent, wordlessly defying his words.

"And then," John went on, "she always helped us, didn't she? And at great risk to herself too, I think."

"It must not have been too dangerous for her, traipsing around with the good Sheriff's men ready to leap to her defense if the outlaws dared to reach a hand to her," Robin said sarcastically.

"Yet we never had even a glimpse of them, strange isn't it?"

Robin didn't answer this time either.

"Couldn't she be faithful to the king, perhaps?" John went on, relentlessly. "He is after all, her kinsman. And now, that I think of it, Robbie, wasn't the dagger Will found in his hands silver and-"

"It's useless," Robin cut him abruptly. "I want it as much as you, more even, to prove her innocence. To believe in her innocence. I turned it over and over all night. But it's no use. She practically admitted it to me. She denied it at first, of course, but when I pressed her for answers, she had none to give me. She was what she was and we were the fools. Let's hope we will not be dead fools, too."

"Then how do you explain this?" John said, stretching his arms in the sunshine.

The deserted camp looked friendlier and calmer than ever and overhead the birds were chirping undisturbed. Robin didn't know how to answer him, so he didn't say anything.

Sometime in the darkness, Rosa awoke to a cool cloth pressed against her throbbing head. She didn't know whether it was morning, noon or night. All she knew was the darkness. She tried to open her eyes, but it was too painful, so she gave it up.

"Wake up, mistress, open your eyes," a hearty voice said.

A voice that reminded her of sunlight and delicious smells and warmth in the kitchen. But it was too much trouble to try and place it exactly.

"Come on, miss," the voice went on, persistent. "You can't let them win. We _won't_ let them win. Open your eyes, 'tis I, Martha, the kitchen maid."

"And Helena," another, even more familiar voice said.

"And Jo," added the stable boy.

"You would not let us die this winter, mistress, and neither will we now," Martha seemed to be the bravest of the three, so they let her do all the talking.

Rosa felt something pressed against her lips and opened them obediently. The warm broth she swallowed was so beneficial to her whole body, that she almost forgot the pain. She opened her eyes with difficulty and looked at the kind faces that were bent over hers anxiously. She found out that she lay on the ground as before, but it was no longer cold and unbearably hard to her tortured body. She was covered with a thick blanket that hadn't been there before, her wounds tended to roughly, but at least she was not bleeding anymore.

"Thank-" she started to say, but the wooden cup was once more pressed to her bruised lips.

"You keep your strength, miss, and it is thanks enough to us to see you awake," Martha said. "Now listen carefully while you sip the broth, it will do you good; you'll have to be able to stand to escape this tomb. We can help you a little, but you will have to do a lot by yourself."

Rosa looked at them questioningly.

"It was that yellow-haired witch that did it," Jo said hurriedly. "She had you followed in the forest, I swear I told no one, mistress. Helen here says she was jealous of you, miss, but I don't know how she could not love you, like we all do."

"Leave that," Martha said impatiently, "we have more important things to deal with right now."

"As soon as you have finished we will help you get out," Helena said excitedly. "The guards let us in and they will let us out again, but we can't follow you into the forest, or we will all be discovered. We'll give you food and clothes, and our prayers, to protect you, miss."

"You can walk, can't you?" Martha asked anxiously.

"Mayhap your friends in the forest can take you in," Jo added hopefully.

Rosa really doubted that her legs could carry her at all and she even more greatly doubted that Robin and his men would welcome her with anything else than open hostility or even deadly arrows. She was so stunned by these people's devotion and love that she could not dim their hopes, so she tried to smile although tears of weakness and emotion welled up in her eyes at the mere thought of their great kindness.

"There now," Martha said in a motherly way, wiping her cheeks with rough but gentle fingers. "Let's get you up and dressed."

She didn't think it was at all possible, but some painful minutes later she was walking alone in the dark road that led among the looming trees. Her mind was fuzzy from the pain, so she wasn't sure of exactly how it had been contrived, but here she was, alive, walking and crawling her way to freedom.

Soon she knew that several of her fresh wounds had started to bleed again and her mind alternated between complete darkness and lucidity, but she pressed on. She fell, she got up, she lost consciousness and she regained it by sheer force of will again and again, all the while feeling her strength failing, he limbs ceasing to support her, her brain darkening. Her whole body had become a wound, the only thing she could feel was pain, but still she managed to drag herself a bit further, and then a but further than that.

The dawn had started to break, or maybe it was because she was nearing death, but she thought the darkness had receded when she reached the waterfall that led to the secret cove of Robin Hood's merry men. That was what she had strived for, this was the exact place that she had chosen to die.

Relieved, she let herself fall to the hard ground, the sound of the falling water consoling her senses and calming her like a distant lullaby. She felt almost happy here. Finally, she could close her eyes and rest. She did.

Behind her, a coiled trail of blood had followed her to her deathbed, lying silently on the ground like a veil of precious, delicate lace.

Robin had awoken earlier than usual, still unable to completely relax. The others, even John, agreed that after three days had gone by without any sign of an intruder in their camp or indeed anywhere else in the forest they could return to their beloved oak tree and gather around the fire. Robin had insisted on doubling the guards while they slept and even during the day, but he seemed to be the only one left to worry.

However it seemed that finally his suspicions were being justified, because only a few hours after sunup, someone was heard shouting urgently through the morning peace of the forest. Robin jumped up, his heart beating wildly; because it wasn't only urgency he had heard in that cry. It was also terror, fear.

"A corpse! There's a corpse!" young Ned was shouting, his eyes huge and round with fear and surprise, his legs swallowing the distance to Robin.

"Where? Who is it? One of the Sheriff's men?" Robin asked, all in one breath.

"No, a woman, I think, she's wearing a dress, I couldn't make out very well, she's like a beggar, in rags…"

Ned showed the way and they followed, Robin the swiftest of them all, quickly gaining ground on everyone and reaching the waterfall first.

He knew her as soon as he saw her, even though she was lying in a pool of blood and her face was dirty with mud, dried blood and ugly bruises.

Even as she lay there broken and dirty, his breath was caught at her beauty.

He fell on his knees beside her and frantically searched for her pulse. His hands were shaking so badly, that it took him a few moments to realize whether he was feeling anything or not. Then he felt a fain fluttering beneath his fingers and the world stopped threatening to swallow him. Soon, however, he despaired again, for he found out that she wasn't breathing. Without thinking, he brushed her wet hair away from her face and placed his lips on hers, trying to give her his air to breathe, willing her to survive. He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the bones protruding painfully beneath his calloused fingers, and pumped. Then he gave her his lips again.

As he looked up briefly to gasp in some air, he felt her breath on his cheek, shallow and weak, but definitely real.

Tears of thankfulness stung his eyes and he looked towards heaven, his heart so full he couldn't bear it.

Then, swiftly, as the others were reaching the scene –for everything had happened with unbelievable speed, even though it had seemed to him to last ages- he cradled her in his arms and stood up. He fought down the panic that threatened to overcome him as he realized how light she was, lighter even than a child, and he held her carefully so as not to further hurt her, as her blood seeped through his clothing to his heart.

The five men who had rushed after him were staring questioningly, maybe one or two were wondering whether he had turned mad, but he didn't care. All thoughts of betrayal and danger to himself were gone, and all that mattered was she. He didn't even remember that he didn't know her real name any more.

All he knew was that he wanted to save her, he _had_ to save her.

For if she didn't survive, he wasn't sure that he would either.


	12. Chapter 12:The truth

**a/n**_**:**__ I apologize from the bottom of my heart for the prolonged delay. As I have said before, I have had this story in my mind for many years, so it was mainly a matter of sitting down and writing it. However, characters tend to take on a life of their own after being put down to paper, so I was 'forced' to write this chapter again and again until it would say what I wanted it to say, until it would convey the emotions I felt the characters would feel._

_Special thanks to __DraggonflyMaiden__, __MushSpotgoil__, __Cori-Ackles__ and __ShakespeareSchoolGirl__ for their extraordinary and encouraging reviews. This chapter is for you._

_I am really grateful to everyone else who has favorited and alerted this story, and especially to __ShakespeareSchoolGirl__, whom I am really proud to call my friend._

CHAPTER 12

THE TRUTH

She wavered between life and death for days.

Paul the healer tried his best to bind her wounds and try to nourish her as she slept, but she had lost a lot of blood and was made too weak by torture, some of her bones broken, others seriously bruised. Although young, Paul was rather experienced, almost better than a physician, and had saved many a life, nursed many a man back to health during their most daring escapades ever since the company of the forest had existed, and Robin had no qualms about trusting him with her care.

He would have send for a more experienced healer without a moment's hesitation, if Paul had happened to be away, as he sometimes was, in search of new herbs and remedies. But now, with him constantly by her side, all that could be done for her would be done, Robin was sure of it.

He himself spent a great part of each night by her side, trying to unfathom her story and to determine what lay behind her closed eyelids. Quite a lot seemed to depend upon it, his men's safety, even his own, however he couldn't even think of sending her away or withholding his help from her when she was dying there, right before his eyes.

He spoke to her, he asked her, he coaxed, he prayed. He even shouted at her once, his frustration and despair overcoming him suddenly. Yet to all of that she remained motionless, completely still in a perfection that frustrated him, oblivious to all his pleas, making him wonder every other moment whether she might have expired already.

On the fourth day, the news came.

Luke was the one who brought it on his return from the weekly foray into the town.

"They say he killed his own daughter now," he said, shaking his head in despair.

"He what?" Little John exclaimed, stealing a sideways glance at Robin.

"He killed her. Just like that," Luke confirmed, snapping his fingers.

Everyone looked at him, shock widening their eyes.

"Will you tell it from the start?" Robin asked sweetly, trying to mask his sudden temper.

His patience was running thin, for he knew that the daughter of whom Luke spoke was not yet dead, but lay on the bottom of a hut a few yards away from the camp, fighting for her life. He hadn't confided in anyone else, except John and Matt –who had heard it firsthand- but was now burning with impatience and curiosity.

Luke sighed deeply, and sipped from a flask of ale. Robin thought he might throttle him, and laced his hands carefully together to keep them from disobeying him.

"He had one of his men read it from a long parchment of paper right there on the square, for all the world to hear. When I arrived, people were swarming all around the place. They had been forced from their homes to listen to what the swine had to announce."

Luke stopped and grimaced in disgust, cringing even at the mention of the Sheriff. Robin nodded mechanically, but the villagers' troubles did not for once interest him –nor did they surprise him.

"So what did the man read?" he prompted Luke.

"He read about the imprisonment of the lady Rosa, as good as said everyone knew about it, apparently it took place quite a few days ago. She was working with us, he said, 'treachery' he called it, that's what he said, I swear it. Did you know that Robin? That we had a friend in the person of 'the lady of the caste'?" he laughed sarcastically. "That's a good one!"

The men echoed his laughter nervously.

Each one was wondering however, as their minds were used by now to rapid thinking, _what would the Sheriff gain with this new lie? What was his purpose? And how would it get back to Robin?_ For by now they knew that little passed through the man's mind that did not have to do with the destruction of Robin and his men.

"Go on," Robin said patiently, and the men noticed he wasn't laughing.

"Well, anyway, that was apparently old news for everyone but us. What was new was that after torturing her, she didn't speak, didn't tell them anything about us, so he thought he would make an example from her, to show everyone that he wouldn't spare even his daughter if she proved to be a traitor, he executed her."

Everyone was silent.

Robin got up abruptly and struck a nearby tree with all his might. It didn't even hurt him. The men leaped in surprise.

"The… the people were starting to say that she escaped," Luke continued, stuttering a bit, and glancing Robin's way with alarm. "That's why he had to make all this fuss, so that he could put the rumors to rest. Although what he will gain by murdering his own daughter, and announcing it to everyone too, I don't know…"

Robin could bear no more.

He run to the small wooden cabin and flung the door open. Rosa lay there, exactly as he had left her in the morning, scarcely moving at all. Paul was next to her, looking grave as usual, but he turned to look at him, alarmed at the vehemence with which the door was flung open.

Robin tried to calm himself. It wouldn't do to jeopardize her life by his emotion.

"Is all well?" Paul asked.

"You tell me," Robin replied, indicating with his head he meant the sleeping figure on the mattress.

Paul stood up slowly, cramped by the hours of crouching next to her and sighed. That wasn't good. When Paul sighed, people went to meet their maker, that's how the saying went around the forest.

"She doesn't got more days left," he said.

Robin grabbed him by the collar. Suddenly he couldn't contain himself anymore, he wanted to scream, he wanted to fling his bow across the room, hating it for its uselessness when he needed something to fight with more than ever. But death couldn't be frightened away by an arrow, no matter how good the archer's aim.

"What-do-you-mean?" he spit in anger.

"Robby, what's wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Come on man, you knew it from the first she wasn't long to live."

"Don't say that!" he shouted, shaking him.

But soon his energy was spent. He let go of Paul and sank to the ground.

"Leave me for a while, will you?" he said, not lifting his eyes from her white face.

He heard the door close softly behind him and took her small hand in his brown, rough one. He bent near her face and studied its serene beauty, mesmerized.

"Will you be able ever to forgive me, I wonder?" he whispered, breathing against her lips. "_I_ would not forgive myself, but then… you have proved yourself my better in so many ways…"

A lone tear traveled the length of his cheek and landed on her marble skin. He wiped it tenderly, hating the impression his calloused finger must leave on her gossamer throat, but relishing its feel at the same time.

"But I sure intend to find out, that's why you're going nowhere," he continued.

He touched her face, he caressed her cheeks, he breathed into her lips.

"Come on my girl, open your eyes, speak to me one more time; I have near forgotten the sound of your voice, we can't have that now, can we? I have to ask your forgiveness, I have to… I have to try to steal one more kiss. I _have_ to, I won't be able to face myself if I don't, you know I won't."

Silence met his urgent pleas, yet he continued trying to coax her to life, trying to waken her by his wooing.

"Wake up, even if it is only to tell me you hate me, even just to spit in my face. I won't mind, I swear I shall even enjoy your wrath, even if that's all you want to direct to me. Come, open your beautiful eyes for me, please, open your eyes."

She did.

Her recovery was slow, but Robin didn't care if it took her another year to stand on her feet again. All he could see before him was the look in her eyes when she first opened them to look at him. He had cried like a baby then, taking her in his arms and cradling her while murmuring in her ear "thank you, thank you, thank you," over and over again.

Then he had run out to shout for Paul.

Paul was very protective of his new patient, especially when he heard the news. For Robin had gathered the men all around him, that same first night of her awakening, and told them the tale, of how the daughter of the Sheriff himself had braved the dangers of the forest, and had had to face torture and death in order to serve them.

Every mouth had hung open, every man remained speechless, and Robin knew in that moment that Rosa would be the princess of the forest as she never was a princess in her own home before. But his own guilt still ate at him, and it didn't let him rejoice in her recovery as he otherwise would. Paul strictly forbade him to upset her, however, and he himself knew better than to slow her recovery. He, too, saw that she was still too weak from her recent ordeal, and feared that the danger for her life had not altogether passed.

But there was nothing he could do but pray and wait.

Merely three days had passed and Robin was beginning to get impatient again. He hovered outside her cabin, but didn't go in. Instead, he became a pest to all his men, who were beginning to think they had had enough of it.

So, he went to hunt.

He was but starting to appraise the deer that was to become his lunch, when the horn wounded. This was disturbing indeed, for he had severely instructed his men to use it only for matters of utmost urgency. His thoughts immediately flew to Rosa and for a minute he couldn't move, his heart refusing to function. Then he ran.

It turned out that the sound hadn't come from the camp at all, but from the top of a tree about a half a mile east. A rough road that ran through the forest led to that exact spot, and as soon as Robin caught his breath –for he was running his horse as if he had the devil on his heels- he discovered to his surprise the Sheriff of Nottingham himself.

He was bound astride his own horse and didn't look at all happy with the turn events had taken, his men strewn about him on the ground, some dead, some wounded, some bound, and most of them no doubt fled. Robin's men regarded him with apathy and required from their master what they should do with him.

Robin understood why they had blown the horn.

It wasn't an every day occurrence for the Sheriff himself to ride in search of the outlaws. In fact, it was the first time in some years that he had ventured in there. He always preferred to stay at a safe distance and send his men to do his work for him. But now something had happened that required his very special attention and Robin once again admired with all his might that slight girl who had braved such a man and shown such courage and strength, even while fully knowing his ensuing wrath. Glancing around at his men's faces Robin knew at once that they were aware of the reason of his lordship's visit and was doubly glad that he had entrusted them with the secret of Rosa's identity and her protection.

"What to do with him?" he wondered aloud and was gratified to hear chuckles all around him.

But today he wasn't in the mood to banter. Facing this man, ridiculous and frightened as he looked, he couldn't wrap his mind around the crimes he had committed, especially against his own daughter.

Turning abruptly, he flung his fist right into the man's eye, and watched with small satisfaction as his heavy form toppled from the horse and landed with a crash on the ground. Robin found that, even fallen down, he couldn't bear the sight of him. He turned aside in disgust.

"Right him and bind his eyes." He shouted to his men and mounted.

He didn't look back until they arrived. Then he ordered the Sheriff tied to a tree with his eyes still bound and made to endure every game the men could think of. And think of games they did. They made him into a bull's-eye, they made him into a boxing sack, and generally did to him every humiliating thing they could think of, which at last turned into a competition in itself. The men sensed their master's anger and wanted to get even a small revenge on behalf of his sorrow and anguish.

Robin went straight to Rosa's cabin. She was sleeping, as she was doing most of the time. He knelt next to her and brushed his fingers through her hair, making sure that her peaceful sleep hadn't been disturbed by the commotion outside. He wouldn't have her know for the world of her father's proximity, and he planned to have him removed from near her before dark.

"I shall kill him for you, Rose," he said. "Rosa, my lady. I will kill him, I will."

She moved in her sleep as if uneasy and moaned softly, as she stretched an injured muscle.

"Shhh." He tried to calm her in alarm, but in a minute she was serene as before. "I shall not let him hurt you again," Robin vowed, his breath coming short, "I'll not let anyone come near you ever again. I don't deserve to come near you either, but I won't hurt you anymore, not ever again, I won't, I swear it."

He raised his fist to his mouth.

"And I won't let anyone else hurt you. I swear it to you, I will keep you from all harm, I will protect you with my life, I will."

She turned again and moaned more deeply than before while the movement lasted.

Robin watched helplessly, pale and shaking as if the pain was in his own body.

A soon as she was quiet again, the realization hit him.

She wouldn't want her father slain; she wouldn't probably even want him to suffer. She would say no man deserved it, and especially he who had been her father.

He got up in frustration. He was sure of it suddenly, that's how she would think, that's how she would react. And if she were awake and able, she would do all in her power to stop him. He didn't want to become that, he didn't want to become the man whom she would try to stop, to prevent from committing a crime. This was the Sheriff's area of expertise; he wouldn't stoop to his level.

He got out quietly and strode to the camp with a determined step.

"Stop it!" he shouted to his men, even before he was upon them. "Stop now," for they seemed not to hear him, or hearing, to not heed him.

Finally, they stopped, eagerly awaiting their orders on the prisoner's next punishment.

Robin walked to the tree and bent down till his face was on the same level with the old man's. He ripped the cloth that made him blind with one rapid move, and the Sheriff stared at him with blood-shot eyes.

"Just so you know," Robin said, his face close and his every word slow, laden with intensity and hidden meaning. "Just so you know, I intended to kill you this day. You would be carried dead from this cove, if only for what you did to your own daughter, to your own flesh and blood."

"Where is she?" the Sheriff sputtered, "where have you hidden her?"

"She," Robin replied, disgusted, "is none of your business. Your own actions declared it to be so. Now go back home dishonored," he ripped his hose open with one swift move of his knife, "humiliated," he grazed his left temple only enough to leave a mark there, "and knowing that you owe your life to the daughter you have only today professed, by your own words, to have murdered."

He lifted his knife aiming it right between the Sheriff's eyes.

"For her," he said, and tore at the ropes that had held him a prisoner.

Immediately the Sheriff leaped for Robin's throat, but the men were there in an instant, holding him back, pinning him to the ground. They did look suspiciously at their chief and later one or two muttered their displeasure, for they had released their greatest enemy from right under their noses.

No further word passed Robin's lips however, as the Sheriff was led by the men through the thick leaves, fuming, into the obscurity of the forest, his eyes bound again.

He was mounted the backwards on his horse, facing its behind, and tied to it with thick ropes that allowed no room for moving. Robin's lenience did not go as far as letting him walk into Nottingham with dignity.

Father Tuck surveyed the scene peacefully from his favorite place, close to a small personal fire he had burning almost constantly.

"Gone soft, have ya?" he said quietly, his eyes never leaving the flames, but he knew that Robin, who was pacing and fuming hearby, had heard him.

"Forgive me, father," Robin said, "I am in no mood for teasing."

"Who's teasing you?" the friar chuckled. "But I certainly could use an answer to my question."

"I haven't gone _soft_, old man, as you well know."

"Well, it would be incredibly daft to kill him, you know. But it seems to me you let him off a bit easily." He shrugged. "It seemed to me, at least…"

"I did it for her, all right?" Robin shouted back, reaching stopping before him. "I did it for _her._"

"Hence the question: have you gone soft?"

Robin sighed audibly.

"Now that I think about it, should you not be chanting or something? It's been a while since you have done any of it?"

"And you have noticed? I am impressed?"

"Now, what is _that_ supposed to mean, father?" Robin was starting to get annoyed.

"I know she occupies your every waking thought," friar Tuck answered calmly, folding his chubby arms across his middle. "I see more than you give me credit for, boy. Didn't you wonder why I never bothered to give her the last rites?"

"What! The last –_what_!"

"Come on, Robin, don't fly off at me, you know you feared from the first she would die. But I knew better. You just never bothered to ask me."

"You knew she would live?"

"As I know other things."

"You speak in riddles, old man, I don't have the time nor the patience for you. Come, out with it, for I have business to attend to."

The friar took his time. He rubbed his hands together, he stared at the fire.

"Your men love and trust you like they trust in God himself. Don't let a woman come between you and them, take care it doesn't happen. The girl will be up and about soon. What will you do with her once she is well again? You can't keep her here, it's too dangerous. But then again, her presence could change things around here, make them more civilized, if she has the stomach for it."

"Good father, I can scarcely plan ahead for her accommodation… she isn't even out of danger yet, her wounds have scarcely been healed…"

"You are losing your touch, my friend," Tuck said. "A leader should look ahead. Take good care chief, lest your men begin to mistrust and resent you."

He couldn't sleep when the night came.

He had heeded well the friar's words, but how could he consider his words when he still feared for the girl's life? His men had not commented upon the Sheriff's visit yet, but he knew he would have to bear the burnt of their anger once morning came.

He sat up and looked at the stars. The black sky, framed by the branches of the trees overhead as it was, failed to calm his spirit, however, and he went for a midnight swim. After drying himself, he went to visit Rosa. He opened the door very carefully so as not to wake her.

The narrow mattress was empty. His heart stopped.

He couldn't find her anywhere. He ran and ran, the sharp wind stinging his eyes, everywhere he could think, but she wasn't to be found. Who could have taken her? And weak as she was… he couldn't bear to think of her in the obscuring darkness, far from his reach, struggling in the clutches of the Sheriff's men, or even worse… in his own. Had he been wrong to let him go, after all?

He went to the stables to get his horse, entering in haste, but he heard a small rustling sound and turned abruptly. She was there, trembling in the sudden wind that rushed through the door, shaking violently and leaning against a chestnut mare –Matt's favorite- for support. Her eyes darted to his in surprise and then fear. She made as if to run, but she was shaking so much, her legs wouldn't obey her.

He rushed to her just as she bent over and he caught her before she fell.

"What are you doing?" he began severely, but as she grimaced in pain, he was gripped by concern. "Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you, I was looking you everywhere, I was afraid…"

He supported her, his arm around her waist.

"Are you hurt?" he said, searching for her eyes, but her head was bent low. "Are you well?" he insisted, "look at me; I beg you, tell me you are not hurt."

Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob came out of her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, starting to become frightened by now, "what is it?" he knelt before her on the hay.

Finally, she lifted her face. Her clear eyes looked into his and he saw fear in them again, terror and pain.

"My lady…" he started, alarmed, her fear of him slicing through his heart like the sharpest dagger.

"I would send it back to you once I arrived at the castle," she whispered, her eyes pleading with him, her voice trembling slightly. "I would walk all the way back but I… I didn't think that I could manage it."

"_Back!_" he almost shouted, leaping to his feet.

"Well, I thought you would send me away sooner or later, you would already have if it were not for the kindness of your heart… But I will not burden you any more and I thank you for your care."

"Send you away?" he interrupted her. "How can you think that I would- ?" then he remembered.

Of course, she had no knowledge of his deep remorse, of his discovering of the truth. She had wanted to run away in the middle of the night. A sudden tremor shook him.

"No!" he said, his eyes burning with intensity as the realization, the enormity of what would have happened if he hadn't found her in time, hit him. "No, you…. no!"

He was shouting again now, and he tried to compose himself because he saw he was scaring her.

"Listen to me, Rosa," he said gently, like talking to a child, for she looked like a frightened doe, reading for flight.

He took care not to touch her, although his arms ached to hold her.

"Listen to me, there is a lot I have to tell you, for I found out my mistake –to my complete and utter shame. And it was too late, or so I thought. I thought I had already lost you, I thought that you were-"

He stopped for a moment, overcome by the memory of that despair.

"But, thank God, He granted you to me. This is all that matters. This, and that you are well now."

He surveyed her again, carefully.

"Are you truly unharmed?" he asked, his eyes intent on hers. "What made you get out of bed when you are still…, what made you want to leave us? Did they tell you something? I will break every bone in their body, I will…"

"I was told he was here, my father…"

"Good Lord, what kind of the _stupidest_ oaf had the audacity to-"

"No, no, it wasn't his fault, I heard, I asked them…"

He stopped her.

"Don't –don't be distressed. I swear to you, your father left this place unharmed, alive and well."

"He left…?" she appeared perplexed. "But I thought that once you had him, you would…"

"I would indeed kill him, I would," he exclaimed with sudden anger, "I would, if it were not for you. I would, only for the things he made you suffer, only for the pain he gave you. For every drop of blood that fell from your frail body as I lifted you that day, almost thinking you were dead, I would shed ten of his, a hundred, a thousand…"

"You are a better man than he," she said, her voice starting to sound a little breathless, for she was beginning to feel spent. "Far better than all of them."

"Not better than you," he replied, his voice sinking to a whisper, washing over her like a caress.

"Robin…" she said and the next moment she was falling.

His heart leaped at the mention of his name but then stopped as he saw the life leave her body. He lifted her in his arms as her knees gave way, and carried her back to the cabin, praying all the time that her nightly adventure hadn't caused further damage to her fragile, wounded body.

_She said my name._

That was all he could think of for a while. He didn't sleep a wink that night, racing between her cabin and the camp, anxious to see that she was sleeping soundly. Morning came and he was still dreaming of his name on her lips. But then remorse shook him again, and he knew that he couldn't do one proper thing that day –not fight, nor hunt- if he didn't make sure he earned her forgiveness first.

But how to do that?

He stared at the fire as the rest broke their fast, and couldn't seem to shake himself awake, not for all the prompting and teasing of his men. Finally, Paul came for him.

"She asks for you," he said simply.

Robin was at her side in less than a second.

"I'm here," he whispered, his chest heaving from the run, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. "I'm here," he repeated for want of something better to say.

She turned her head to look at him, and though she looked paler than she had in the morning, her face was lit by a secret radiance. He had never seen her so beautiful, or so he thought.

"Master," she said.

"My lady," he replied, bowing his head to her respectfully.

She seemed dismayed at that.

"So you've changed your mind?" she asked anxiously, trying to rise and support herself on her right arm. "You don't want me?"

"_I_ don't want you? My lady, I know I behaved in the most despicable way, but…"

He reached for her, tried to help her, but she shook his hand away. He snatched it back as if it had been burnt. Rosa turned on her other side by a swift movement, and he knew how it must have pained her still-fresh wounds, but she didn't utter a sound.

"My lady," he murmured again, slowly, painfully.

He didn't understand why she had turned from him, she had seemed so anxious to gain his approval the night before –she was ready to run away from him for fear he wouldn't want her there. He stared at her emaciated back, silently willing her to face him, to give him even one glance of approval, of forgiveness. But nothing.

She had every reason after all to hate him and to order him from her bedside.

He stood up.

She still didn't move.

"I will go now," he said awkwardly, "I will not disturb you again, my lady. Please forgive… never mind."

He started to go, then halted, waiting still, hoping.

"If you ever want to talk to me," he started, his words coming out a jumbled as his thoughts, "you have but to say one word, and know that I am your friend at all times, no matter how badly I have treated you. It is my ambition to defend and serve you, but I truly will not bother you, you won't even have to see me again. Paul and John will take care of you, they will be happy to…"

She didn't reply or move and he was seized by a sudden fear that she wasn't breathing. He stepped close to her and saw at a glance that her eyes were open and she was listening to his every word.

"Please," he said, "just one word…, please. Otherwise, I will never…"

It was no use. "I will leave you," he said. He had one hand to the door.

"Stay." She said, her voice a soft whisper that barely reached his ears.

He flung himself on his knees next to her, nearly crying in relief.

"Rosa," he said. "Is that it? Did I say it right?"

"Yes," she said and tried to turn around again.

He took her in his arms and helped her move, so that she wouldn't injure herself further.

"Yes," he repeated, brushing her matted hair away from her brow, "yes. And you shall stay here. For as long as you want to. Don't ever doubt it again."

She nodded again, her eyes starting to fill with tears. He wiped them tenderly.

"Don't do that," he said laughing softly in his happiness, "you know how I hate it when you cry."

"Thank you, master," she said.

"Won't you call me Robin, like you did before?" he couldn't resist asking.

"Master?" she appeared confused and he wondered whether he should press her further.

"Call me Robin, do," he urged.

"You don't want to be my master, then?" she asked, her tears flowing more earnestly now.

He bent over her, hating himself for upsetting her.

"It's alright," he said over and over again, until she quieted down. "I will be your master, yes, you can call me master."

There was silence for a moment, as he was gathering the courage to speak again.

"Can you ever forgive me?" he dared to ask. "Would you at least try? I will do anything to make you forget that day. I was so scared, I wanted to believe you, I did. But my men, I couldn't risk putting them in danger."

He shook his head, shutting his eyes in an effort to erase the memory.

"And I should have believed you," he went on, "you had served me –us all- so well before, with such courage, such devotion… I have been such a fool!"

He felt the brush of her fingertips against his cheek and opened his eyes.

"Master, I know why you couldn't believe me; I really shouldn't have lied to you."

"No, no I will not let you blame yourself for this, my la- Rosa," he corrected himself. "I made a mistake, a really grave one that nearly cost you your life. I will never forgive myself for that, and I honestly don't know how you could either."

"Oh, but I do forgive you," she said quickly, her eyes searching his face anxiously. "If that is what you want, that is. I really can't see of what use my forgiveness would be to you, but if that's what you want, you surely have it, and with all my heart."

"I do want it," Robin replied, blinking his suddenly moist eyes. "It is of the greatest use to me, _you_ are of the greatest…"

He looked at her and her eyelids were drooping in exhaustion.

"You must rest now," he said reluctantly. "You –you don't feel ill, do you?"

"Stay," she said the same word as she had said before as sleep overtook her.

He held her hand and all was well with the world again.

Rosa adjusted in the life of the forest with great ease. Before long, she had sufficiently recovered to be given regular daily tasks, small ones at first, for Robin tended to be overprotective of her, even though he could see it made her feel uncomfortable in the company of so many hard-working men. They had accepted her surprisingly well however, and Robin had dismissed the friar's words as foolish.

He kept thinking that he would find a safer and more accommodating place for her as soon as she was fully recovered, and maybe it was the temporary nature of her stay in the forest that kept the balances amongst his men, but he kept putting it off. One day she looked too pale to him and another too happy and he couldn't find it in his heart to talk to her about her departure. The truth was, he was loath to part with her and as the days progressed her company and advice were becoming more and more indispensable to him.

He wasn't surprised at all that she never complained but still managed to keep her person as well as the camp clean as it had never been before, although the men seemed quite impressed about it, and she rose in their esteem every time she handed out clean shirts and mended cloaks. She cooked well, too, and if Robin had thought previously that Tuck's skills bore no improvement, he surely had changed his mind now.

It was a minor reason he was reluctant to remove her from the forest, that the men were beginning to feel pampered and would sorely miss the luxuries her presence afforded them.

More than two months passed and soon she started to go out with Robin's small party, at first only for hunting, but then for raiding and holding-ups too, always dressed as a boy and standing at the back for better protection, of course, for he would hear of nothing more daring. She put up with it however with good grace, even though she would rather have taken a more active part, because her other choice would be to stay back at the camp and miss all the fun. The men were wary of her presence in the beginning, but soon they became accustomed to it, and since she neither slowed them down nor hampered their work, and they enjoyed the sight of a lovely face among them, they shrugged off her presence and liked it too. She wasn't bad with the bow and the sword either, which helped them accept her more readily.

Thus it came about that one day Rosa, dressed like Stuart, was walking through the forest in the company of Little John –the only man Robin entrusted her to apart from himself. Robin didn't enjoy being away from her for so long, but he didn't want to smother her either. His fears and anxieties would have to find a way to abate themselves, for he would not do anything to make the forest an unpleasant place for her.

So they were walking together and laying traps for small animals, when Little John heard a suspicious sound from behind a bush. He deemed it safer to tell her to wait for him and went to investigate by himself. Rosa waited obediently behind a bush, when she heard steps.

She leaned forward so as to have a better view of the road, but she didn't have time to see much.

In a second she heard a desperate yelp, and then silence.

Overcome with curiosity and concern, she stepped carefully out of her hiding place.

A few yards from her was a young man, about Robin's age, his blond curls gleaming in the sun. He was lean, muscular and tall, as far as she could tell, and a string of profanities was pouring from his mouth.

He hung upside down from a tree, dangling from his left leg, which was caught in one of Little John's traps.


	13. Chapter 13: Julian

**a/n**: _once again, thanks to everyone who read and commented on my weak attempts to create a story._

_This one is dedicated to __ShakespeareSchoolGirl__, __VeryaTirananniel__ and __Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__ and to everyone who reads it, of course. _

_ShakespeareSchoolGirl__ and __Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__, thank you so much for encouraging me and prompting me to write. I probably wouldn't have uploaded this if it weren't for your comments. _

_VeryaTirananniel__, your comment made me laugh so hard… I read it so many times that I've almost memorized it! I am so worried this story might somehow disappoint you and I will never hear more of your enthusiastic comments, but I will still have that one. Thanks from the bottom of my heart._

_Everyone who favorited and alerted this story, please know that you made my day._

_So, enjoy_!

CHAPTER 13

JULIAN

His clothes were worn, but made of an expensive fabric that belied his foul, peasant tongue. He kept throwing his limbs about in an effort to free himself, but only succeeded in securing the knots of the trap that was around his leg.

Rosa felt laughter bubbling in her chest, and clapped her hand against her mouth so as not to be heard. The trapped man's struggles continued however, and she couldn't contain herself any longer. She stepped further away from the bushes cautiously and stood facing the dangling man's back.

"Hey there!" she shouted after waiting silently for a few minutes.

He tried to turn around, but he only managed to make himself rotate in wild circles that sent her doubling over in peals of laughter.

"Will you stop that?" he said, vehemence dripping from his voice.

"Will _you_ stop that?" Rosa said, in her roughest accent. "You're making me laugh and my sides hurt."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to have upset you, you tiny little yelp," the man said sarcastically.

"So, do you want me to help you or not?" Rosa asked, enjoying herself immensely.

"I want you to leave me in peace," the trapped man shouted.

"Alright then," Rosa shrugged in feigned indifference. "But I doubt that you will have much peace up there, not unless you let me help you."

"Just go away, you annoying little yelp!"

Rosa started to walk away slowly, when she heard him again.

"Uh… would step over here a minute?" he asked, his voice timid and reluctant, scarcely resembling his previous one.

"What now?" Rosa asked in good humor.

"Just wondering… how do you think you will free me, being smaller than my thumb yourself?"

"There's no need to be mean," she said and waved her long sword at him instead of another reply.

He looked surprised.

"I would be surprised if you could lift it as far as your face, let alone above your head," he said mockingly.

"Do you or do you not need me to cut the rope?"

"I do _not_!"

"That's what I thought," Rosa said beginning to get annoyed at last.

She grabbed hold of a low branch and hoisted herself up the tree with ease, crawling across its higher branches and coming to rest just above his foot. She lifted her knife.

"No, wait, be careful, I will fall on my-"

With a swift movement of her wrist she had cut the knot that bound him. He fell on the ground, landing on his head with a thump and a loud groan.

"Did you say something?" she asked sweetly from above.

The man just lay there, cursing.

In a moment, Rosa saw Little John's broad shoulders appear from among the thick leaves, his step slow and sure, his gaze anxiously scouring the place for her.

"What happened here?" he asked in his booming voice.

The man on the ground stopped his cursing and lifted his head to stare at the giant who was walking menacingly towards him. He began painstakingly to pick himself up.

"You can have all my money and you're welcome to it," he said to Little John and Rosa noted that his accent was pure, his manner of speech more like that of a gentleman than a peasant, and he bore himself with dignity before the huge outlaw, in spite of his disheveled state.

"I was told that the brave outlaw Robin Hood was the king of this forest," he went on scornfully, as he tried to brush the dirt from his clothes. "I see that is not the case."

"Now wait a minute…" Little John appeared both astonished and confused by the stranger's words. "Did you say king?"

He looked upon the man with sudden awe, and Rosa decided she had better climb down before he did something stupid, like bowing before the stranger.

She jumped silently on the ground and made a sign to Little John not to show he had seen her. He, however, appeared absolutely mesmerized by the young man. Rosa glanced quickly around. She couldn't see or hear an animal, so she concluded that he had been on foot. Now that was strange. What could a man with such genteel speech and clothes be doing walking through the Greenwood forest? Fallen aristocracy perhaps?

"Take your fee, thief," the man said again, appearing to be in a hurry to leave, "and let me go in peace."

He put his hand in his pocket and took out three silver coins, apparently all he had on him. He threw them at Little John's feet with a gesture full of contempt. John didn't make a move to take the coins.

"Hold it!" he said, beginning to sound a bit like his usual booming self.

The man sighed in exasperation.

"What now?"

"You tell me what your business is in this forest before you take another step."

"Or what?"

"See this?" Little John waved his favorite sturdy stick in front of his face. "It will land on your ribs."

Surprisingly, the stranger laughed.

"Spare me your threats, thief," he said. "My entire fortune in the whole world is at your feet. You are welcome to try to search me if you don't believe me, but I wouldn't recommend it. Take that little skinny lad of yours, who seems to be cowering on the top of that tree for fear, and enjoy your ill-begotten coins."

Rosa stepped silently as a cat until she was standing right behind him. She was starting to feel a little tired, for she had not regained her strength back completely, but she would die before she showed it. With a quick, sudden move, she had him by the neck, her knife poised against his throat.

"You really should learn to be more grateful to the skinny lad who freed you," she whispered against his ear.

He was completely still beneath her grip, and she knew by this that he was trained in combat, and wouldn't act foolishly, but only with great precision, so that he could overpower them both.

"All right, all right," the man said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You got me. I had this great idea of taking a walk in the forest in broad daylight, I know it was the stupidest thing to do, but there you have it. Can I go now, seeing as I have paid my toll and everything?"

Rosa fought down the overwhelming desire to slash his cheek with her knife, if only to stop his mocking of them, but she held her peace. Dark spots were beginning to dance before her eyes, but she set her teeth in determination and shook her head as if to clear her vision.

"Not so fast, my boy," Little John said, laughing in spite of himself as he approached the man and grabbed him by the shoulder, almost lifting him off the ground with his strength. "First you tell us what business you have taking Robin's name on your lips. And I would answer than sooner rather than later, if I were you."

Rosa stepped back gratefully and leaned on the trunk of the tree she had previously climbed, never once leaving the two men from her sight.

But the stranger seemed to have transformed. His face shone with happiness and he was smiling broadly. John stared at him in disbelief, but didn't loosen his grip.

"Robin, you said?" the stranger shouted. "The way you said it, so familiarly, as if he were your friend…" he turned and looked at Rosa, then at John again. "You are his men, aren't you? I found you!"

With that, he threw his arms around Little John and hugged him fiercely, managing at last to take him completely by surprise.

When they arrived back at the camp everyone else was there already, settling down to eat. Robin was pacing all over the clearing, and as soon as they appeared he ran towards them.

"Where have you been?" he asked Little John angrily, but his eyes were on Rosa. "I was worried sick… Hey, steady there."

She had stumbled and he caught her arm to steady her, peering into her face anxiously. The two men walked on towards the camp, Little John freeing the visitor's eyes as he led him forward.

As soon as the young man's eyes were free of the cloth that blinded them, he fell to studying the faces of the men around him with interest. He lifted his face towards the last rays of the sun that filtered through the leaves of the trees that towered above him, and he closed his eyes with an expression of absolute happiness and abandon on his face. The men surveyed him curiously and with reserve, as they did all strangers, but even they could see that something was different about this one. That he was here to stay.

"You name, stranger?" one of the men called, and the man turned towards him, an expression of confused delight on his face, for he had not been aware of the puzzled glances thrown his way.

"Julian," he said, in a loud clear voice that impressed the men. "I am called Julian."

Back in the secret passage, a few yards away from the waterfall, Robin turned his attention to Rosa .

He reached behind her neck and pulled down the cap that hid her coppery curls. It was his custom to do this as soon as they arrived back at camp every time, and Rosa let him, enjoying the look of pure delight that came over his face when her luscious curls tumbled down her back. It seemed like he never expected them to be quite so beautiful, as if he was always surprised by their beauty.

This time, however, Rosa did not even notice that her head was free from the confines of the ugly 'Stuart' cap. She was struggling not to let her weakness show, and she set her teeth, but the black spots started dancing before her once again, more prominent and threatening than before.

For a moment, all went black, and she tried to focus again, but in vain.

"Whoa! Rosa…?" Robin's concerned voice penetrated the darkness and she fought to remain conscious.

She swayed and he caught her against him in alarm.

"What's wrong?" he asked urgently. "Were you hurt? Let me see." He bent towards her and cupped her face, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Your face is so white… you are all done in."

He made as if to take her in his arms and carry her, but she pushed him resolutely away. That was the last thing she needed, to be seen by the men being carried like some feeble little woman. Robin seemed to understand, however, and he placed his hand on her from the waist instead, almost lifting her from the ground as she tried to walk, his great strength supporting her.

"Come on," he knew she needed the encouragement of his voice to keep walking the short distance, "courage, my brave girl, we're almost there."

He helped her sit down at the bark of the second large oak, which was quite concealed from the camp by thick bushes. As soon as she was settled, her head leaning heavily back on the soft, brown trunk that smelled of earth and sunshine, he darted away. She wasn't even aware of his brief absence, and only realized that he had gone to bring her food when he shook her gently awake, taking her hand in his.

She opened her eyes, a little disoriented and saw his kind face leaning towards her, his black eyes shining with intelligence and humor as always. But something seemed to shadow them today, and with surprise she saw that it was concern, for her. She wanted to tell him not to worry about her all the time, that she would be fine, but she was too exhausted to deal with this now. She let her heavy eyelids close again.

"I know you are tired," he said, and his voice was so soft it was hard to imagine that it was the same voice that led the whole camp into battle, "I know and it is my fault for having pushed you too far, but please try to swallow a little of this. Come on, it will do you good, I promise."

She wanted to tell him that his voice was the only thing keeping her from going under, but she had no energy to speak, and every breath she took was beginning to ache alarmingly. _I won't have an attack now, I can't_, she began telling herself, but then Robin's voice seemed to fade in the distance and she lost consciousness.

Robin saw her face fall limply to one side, and moved quickly. He put his one arm beneath her shoulders, supporting her, and with his other hand he shook her softly at first, then more fiercely as he saw that she was not responding.

"Wake up, come on, open your eyes," he told her, as if somewhere in her subconscious she could hear him. "I know you can hear me, my girl, come on, don't do this to me."

She opened her eyes slowly and he lifted the flask of wine to her lips, still supporting her, gratified to see some color returning to her cheeks as she drank. He hardly spoke as he carefully fed her some of the jelly Tuck had brewed earlier, except for soft murmurs to show her he meant to encourage her for making the effort.

She sat up when the wooden bowl was almost empty and tried to look away, suddenly embarrassed.

"What is it?" he asked and reached for her, thinking she was feeling unwell again.

"Nothing," she replied still looking away, "except you'll be thinking now that I am weak and useless. And you will be right too."

He set the bowl down gently, and lifted a finger to her lower lip, brushing an imaginary speck away.

"No," he said slowly, "that's not at all what I was thinking."

He tried to make her face him, lifting her chin with his thumb, but she resisted and he did not want to press her. He let his hand drop.

"Look at me," he said and waited. "Look at me."

She lifted her eyes and it was all he could do not to kiss her right then.

"What I am thinking is that I should be taking better care of you," he said, and she knew he meant it for his boyish eyes were serious, boring into hers, and a little sad.

"I knew that a woman in camp would be an impossible encumbrance for all of you," she said, hating the sadness in his expression, "and I was foolish to think…"

"No," he interrupted. "That's not how it is with you, Rosa. You are one of us, you have put your life on the line for me and my men, and now that I am looking at you, you are so fragile and exquisite, and I am thinking how much strength your slight frame holds and I wonder… Were these the only times you have helped us? Were these we know all the sacrifices you made, was that all? Or is there more I will never know, I will never be able to thank you about?"

She felt the color rising to her cheeks and bent her head down to hide her expression. _You won't find out, ever_, she vowed silently, as she had in the past.

"I spent hours looking at you when you were sick, trying to guess your secrets, the terrible pain your heart must hold, and how much of it is due to me," Robin continued and she lifted her face to see he wasn't looking at her, but somewhere in the distance and his eyes were hooded again, his lower lip as if about to tremble. "How will I ever discover, how will I ever know you completely…. Sometimes I think that is what I desire most in the world, more than anything else. More than justice, more than peace."

He turned to look at her as he said this and his eyes were wild and she could see fire in them and a pain so deep it scared her. Involuntarily she leaned back, away from him. Even though the movement was slight, he saw it, and schooled his expression. He reached out tentatively and took her hand in his, enveloping it entirely

"Are you cold?" he said, momentarily distracted. "Your hands are cold." He rubbed them gently with his, trying to communicate to her his warmth and protection. "Come, I must get you inside to rest."

But she was reluctant to get up, to leave him. The little glimpse she had seen of his soul was too little, it had left her hungry for more.

"But let's make one thing clear," Robin said suddenly, without letting go of her hand, and she wondered if he shared her reluctance to part. "I thought I would keep you here until you were entirely well, until you were healed completely, I mean, and had gotten back your strength and then I would find you a safe home in one of the villages where I am well-known and, I hope, loved."

He stopped and took a deep breath that sounded more like a painful sigh, not noticing her panic at the mention of her leaving the forest.

"But, you see… I was a fool," he went on, "and I didn't know my own heart."

He turned to look her straight in the eyes.

"I can't let you go, Rosa, that's the truth," he said and his voice trembled slightly when he said her name. "I thought I could, but I can't. Your presence here is as essential to me as the sunshine, as the air. It is extremely selfish of me, but I know that I will never send you away, I know it in my heart I won't be able to do it. If ever it becomes unbearable for you and you ask me, I will release you at once. I will send you anywhere you want to go, I myself will take you there. I will build a palace with my own two hands and take you to live in there like a princess."

He chuckled at his own folly, but his laugh lacked its usual humor and buoyancy.

"Or at any rate, I will find you a safe home where you will be loved and taken care of," he said. "I don't know if you will be taken proper care of here in the forest, and you see that already I am making a terrible job of it, but the thing is, you have become one of us now, and losing you would mean losing the most treasured of my men, the most valuable and" he paused a minute and when he continued his voice was a whisper "the most beloved."

They remained like this a while, no one speaking or moving and then Robin lifted his hand to brush away a strand of hair that fell on Rosa's forehead, gleaming like rich gold in the slant of the sun's last rays.

"And the bravest of my men," he added softly, a smile beginning to form itself on his lips. "Definitely the bravest. And by far."

"Master, please…" Rosa began, but right then a bellow reached them from the other side of the tree, where the men were ravishing their meal.

"Chief, where are you? The stranger is eating us out of hearth and home! Come put a stop to his appetite!"

"Robin! Come here!" others joined in, laughing.

Rosa and Robin exchanged a smile and he lifted up one finger as he sprung up on his feet to signify that she should wait for him.

When he came back however, a mere minutes later, she was peacefully asleep, leaning against the crook of one of the tree's thickest roots that rose from the ground, making him jealous of its brown embrace, that held her.

He stooped and lifted her carefully in his arms so as not to wake her. He took her to the cabin, which the men had started calling 'Rosa's cabin' and covered her with a thick fur. He stayed for a moment, watching the rhythmical rise and fall of her chest beneath the covers, and then, reluctantly, he left.

"So," Robin addressed himself to the newcomer, who had already made himself comfortable around the camp.

He swallowed a large bite of meat and regarded the now empty bone he held in his hand with disappointment. Immediately, someone handed him another chunk of deer meat and he sent the man a grateful glance before he bit into it with gusto.

"I am guessing you may have another name besides this, 'Julian of the Dangling Limbs'?" he asked, sending his men into roars of laughter with the new nickname he had only just thought of.

Julian laughed himself, and Robin lifted his eyebrow appreciatively. He was better inclined to like a man who could laugh at himself.

"I have taken upon me the name of Fitzwilliam," he said "ever since I was eleven. My father's name being William –as far as I knew- it seemed an inspiration at the time."

"What was wrong with your given name?" Little John asked roughly.

"Only that it didn't exist," Julian answered good-humoredly. "My father, the said William, refused to acknowledge me, and my mother to name me after him. She would give me the name of another man, but I would have none of it."

Robin observed him in silence as he spoke leaving the questioning to his men.

"And why would your mother give you the name of another man?" Gregory asked.

"She was married to him," Julian said and Robin saw that his expression was no longer that of unprecedented glee, but his eyes were dark and reserved. And sad –infinitely sad. All of a sudden, Julian clamped his lips shut and seemed to not want to speak one more word. It was a different man that Robin saw before him, full of despair and pain, a man that hang upon life from a tender thread which would at any moment disappear or break.

"You don't have to tell your story, if you don't want to," Robin said before he had had time to think of it. "Everyone who is willing to fight for justice is welcome here, and that's what you have to prove my friend, not your ancestry."

Julian just nodded his head solemnly and Robin had the strangest idea about him, that the reason he didn't speak was that he couldn't just then.

"Still, chief, you have to admit," Matt said, "it makes one wonder, what business did the woman have going around naming her children herself when she had a husband?"

Everyone laughed at this, and Julian sank lower on the ground.

"He wasn't living with us," he said in a deep tortured voice that silenced everyone.

Matt looked at Robin guiltily, and Little John tried to amend the situation.

"You have to admit, Robbie," he said, "that this sounds like a story."

Everyone thought the same, that the stranger was most probably lying, but his brow was so dark and his eyes so pained that they daren't speak it out loud.

"A story for round the fire at night, I mean," Little John added.

Julian got up abruptly.

"If it's a story you want from me, I had better leave straight away," he said, his tone suddenly bitter.

He turned to Robin

"If you want my blood, my sword, my life, I lay them at your feet Robin Hood, and at England's. I was planning on throwing myself in the river, but then I thought of two things. First, I can swim and I hear that makes it harder to drown."

He paused, expecting chuckles, but no one laughed. Every eye was glued on him, unflinching.

"And then I thought, maybe there is a cause worth dying for. So I thought of you. If there is one place away from memories, from stories of one's past and from women that are at the root of all evil, it's this forest. Was I mistaken Robin Hood, or does the fight for justice no longer feature amongst your first priorities? Have I stumbled upon a camp of clowns and mistook it for the Merry Men?"

He gazed into Robin's eyes defiantly, anger burning in their depths and for a crazy moment Robin was sure he had seen these eyes somewhere else, and than he knew them by heart.

"Your anger does you justice, stranger," he said, getting up to stand toe to toe to the man, and discovering they were almost of the same height. "I for one am not interested in your story, only in the honesty of your heart. As for laying your life at my feet, I don't want it and you had better take it back. _You_ are to choose what you do with it. Give it for England, give it for wealth, give it for power. I can only judge as far as my eyes can see. Only remember, you have not proved yourself yet, and you will be treated as a stranger until then."

Julian seemed to be satisfied with this answer, and relaxed a little.

"Thank you, Robin Hood," he said, "I hope I can pass your tests or die trying."

"There is no need to be dramatic," Robin said dryly as he dropped back on the ground again and motioned for him to do the same. "And women, you will see, are honored in this camp and outside of it, as each one of these lads has a mother."

"In fact, there is a woman right now-" Gilbert began to say, but Robin cut him off with a warning look.

"There was a lady Alice who lived among us for… let's see, a week or so," he amended quickly, but Julian interrupted him with an incredulous look on his face.

"A lady?"

"Well, she had to stay somewhere, seeing as we had kidnapped her on the day of her marriage, until her own sweetheart could marry her and carry her off," Robin finished laughing at the stranger's disgusted look.

"I remember her rescue," Gilbert continued half-closing his eyes at the fond memory. "Those were good times, eh chief? Now, her stay here was another matter entirely…"

"Our White Hand here was a bit smitten with her," Robin said slapping Gilbert's shoulder with all his might. "That is, until she gave him a disgust of womenfolk everywhere with her missish ways and whims, but really Gil, she was but a woman, and a gentlewoman at that, she wasn't used to our ways…"

"She didn't give me a disgust of womenfolk," Gilbert said with dignity. "There are some women, ladies even…" he stopped himself abruptly, and Robin knew he was thinking of Rosa.

"Yes, well," Robin said sarcastically, "one cannot expect the fairer sex of as great things as our own powerful one, but we will have to endure them as best we can, for they are necessary to the continuation of mankind."

"Lying, manipulative shrews they all are," Julian exclaimed angrily, frowning to himself as to a demon of his past, not even noticing Robin's caustic remark.

Robin stared at him curiously, wondering what kind of woman was in this man's past to have given him such a distaste of the entire sex.

"You do sound bitter," he said kindly. "I look forward to seeing you resist the wiles of the girls down at the tavern where my men often go to wile away their lonely winter nights."

"They have no wiles for me whatsoever," came the abrupt answer.

"Well, you know best, my friend," Robin said. "Just do not find yourself forgetting what I told you about the way my men behave towards women, or you will get a glimpse of my fury. And let me tell you, my fury is not a pretty thing to see."

"Of course," Julian said with a wry smile, "I will abide by your code of honor. In my experience, a mother can be the worst criminal possible… But I suppose you will have to find that out for yourself. There was only one girl I…" he paused and looked at the intent faces that watching him from all around. He seemed to remember where he was and he shook himself out of his reminiscing. "I only meant," he added in a lighter tone, "that we will be safe from them in the forest."

Robin looked at him and considered telling him about Rosa. Then he suddenly burst out laughing.

"You know, Julian, the lad who helped you get down from the tree while John was away holding up those monks… he was-"

He stopped and reconsidered. Maybe it was because he was so fiercely protective of her, and even though he knew it deep inside that this man's heart was true, he didn't want to risk exposing her. Maybe he didn't trust him all that much yet. On the other hand, it was more than obvious that the man called Julian harbored a really strong dislike for women. Wouldn't it be safer for everyone if he knew beforehand that there was a girl in the forest?

"The little lad, you say?" Julian asked. "What of him? I didn't see him here at the camp, or I would have a few words to say to him…"

Robin looked at the man again and laughed louder. No, he wouldn't tell him now. He would let him find out for himself. It was worth a good laugh, whatever the outcome.

"What I want to say is, I'm not sure I understand what you mean when you say 'we'll be safe from them'," he told him, "but let me tell you right now. Safeg is the last thing you are in the forest. From anything."

**a/n:** _Sir Hugh might make an appearance in the next chapter, or the one after that. What would you think of that?_

_Thanks for reading._


	14. Chapter 14: Sir Hugh's Return

_**a/n**__: the last chapter got so many reviews so fast, most of them saying I had to update soon, that I felt I just had to…. So, here is the next one. It is a bit long, and maybe it should have been cut in two, but I didn't have the heart to do it._

_This one is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, favorited or simply read this story. You have no idea what an honor it is for me that someone actually reads what I write… _

_And it is with special thanks to_

_AlwaysInLoveWithTheVillain__thanks for encouraging me so much_

_Hey Saturday__ your comment is one of the greatest compliments I have ever received. Wow! Thanks…_

_Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__ thank you sooo much for saying you love my story!_

_ShakespeareSchoolGirl__Robin will do his best not to smother Rosa, but it is the first time he has ever fallen in love truly, and he has a little difficulty controlling himself… thanks for understanding him ;) xo_

_VeryaTirananniel__ you managed to make me laugh once more. As for Julian's problem… well, you will find out soon enough I hope, and although it may be something minor for the age they lived in, in ours it's one of the major issues of today's society. So, it was important for me that he should feel it deeply. I just realized you don't know what I'm talking about, but there it is… thanks for cracking me up and for your encouragement._

_meandthedoctor__ thanks so much for your comment. I hope all went well with your exam._

_All of you who comment, please know that I visit your profiles and go over your stories. Especially those about Robin Hood (or Shakespeare…) which I generally love to read about._

_So, without further ado…_

CHAPTER 14

SIR HUGH'S RETURN

It did not take long for Julian to find an opportunity to prove himself to Robin Hood and his men. Two days later, he went along on the scouting trip to Nottingham and Robin himself joined the small party, not trusting him entirely yet. While they were there, one of the guards accosted a stooped old woman who refused to move out of his way. There was nothing to do for Robin and his men but to defend her, although Robin much preferred not to openly provoke the guards.

It could not be helped this time, however, and a full combat ensued during which Robin noted with satisfaction –and a little admiration too- that Julian held his own very well, fighting both with courage and precision.

His bravery and skill with the sword did not go unnoticed by the rest of the men either, and when they retreated to the safety of the forest, they slapped him on the back and joked with him, indicating that they now accepted him as one of them. Julian's green eyes sparkled with pride and gratitude, and Robin had seen enough of his brooding face during the past two days to be able to appreciate this rare display of happiness and what it must mean to the man.

It turned out, however, that this was not the way Julian found a way into the men's heart, nor why he earned a rather prominent position in the forest right beside their beloved Robin Hood.

It was a few hours after they had returned from their scouting trip to Nottingham, and the camp was a flurry of activity, men hurrying about their jobs, making new weapons or trying to repair their already used ones. A few were occupied by skinning and readying to cook the day's game and Paul was tending to the wounds of those who had not been so fortunate as to escape unscathed the combat. Robin was not among them, thankfully, and he strolled to where Rosa was sitting in the afternoon light, patiently mending threadbare green tunics and determining which ones were beyond repair and were only fit to be thrown away. She would later sew new ones for the men these had belonged to, and it was her ambition to eventually make a new outfit for every man on the camp.

Robin watched her silently for a few minutes, fascinated by the way the light played on her hair and the graceful movement of her neck as she bent over her work. With a private laugh he remembered Julian's reaction when he had first looked upon 'Stuart' with her hair down and realized that the skinny youth that had freed him from Little John's trap was actually a young woman. His jaw had hung open for a full five minutes and afterwards he had steered clear of her, apparently afraid that even speaking to her would contaminate or endanger him in some way. Rosa took it all in stride, but as the days progressed Robin was sure she was beginning to feel hurt by his contemptuous behavior and he had determined to have a nice long talk to the man about it. It wouldn't kill him to thank her for sewing him all these clothes –and in record time, too. Robin had been afraid she would strain herself doing all that work practically overnight but he had stopped himself from saying anything, for he could see how badly she wanted to prove she was of some use in the camp.

His left foot moved slightly and a twig snapped making a seemingly deafening sound amid the silence of the dusk. Rosa jumped in surprise, pricking her finger in the process, but she smiled widely as soon as she saw it was he.

"Master!" she said, the delight in her voice making Robin's heart jump.

"Didn't mean to disturb you, sorry," he said. "Would you mind some company?"

"You will stay a while, then?" she asked sounding hopeful.

"If you want me," he answered, a challenge dancing in his eyes. He waited for her to encourage him, to tell him she wanted him there, but she simply smiled again and turned her attention back to her work, so he sat down beside her.

She made a dismayed sound when she found out that her finger was bleeding, and lifting it out of the way, so that it wouldn't stain the cloth that was on her lap.

"Hey!" Robin said as he noticed it, knitting his eyebrows.

He reached to take her hand in his. Without thinking he brought her injured finger against his lips. He noticed she was trembling, her large, green eyes fixed on his face, the color rising in her cheeks. Slowly, he released her hand, and she fumbled with the tunic, hiding it in its folds.

Robin was torn between feeling remorse for having flustered her and triumph for the same reason.

"So tell me," he said as soon as he had recovered the use of his voice, "how has your day been? I hope you have been resting and getting back your strength, but I'm afraid that is a rather futile hope."

Rosa smiled.

"No, indeed I have been resting," she said avoiding his gaze, "something I don't see anyone else in this camp doing, but still they wouldn't let me do anything more than take some dirty clothes to the river and soak them."

"You mean," Robin said, raising an eyebrow, "they made you do the laundry?"

"Actually," Rosa said laughing, "it was the other way round. I had to plead and beg and… well, mention quite a few times the fact that I am actually a woman before they would let me take the clothes out. For some absurd reason, they seemed to fear your wrath if they let me do it. Or perhaps they feared I should ruin their clothes maybe, since I am not used to manual work…"

Robin laughed, his mirth echoing loud and clear in the gathering dusk.

"I have been a little protective of you, it seems," he said. "Although I don't see but that it was good for them. They _should_ hesitate before letting a princess touch our muddied cloaks, and put her hands in the icy water, you know. It is only right," he added eyeing her defiantly.

"I'm not sure I understand you," Rosa said laying her work aside. "Are we not meant to be free from rank and position even in this forest?"

"Free…!" Robin repeated in a whisper, as if to himself, with wonder.

He got up slowly, then came to her side squatting down beside her.

"Rosa," he said, studying her face, "Rosa," he repeated, closing his eyes as if something gave him pain. "The reason you're here is not to work for us, it's not to wear yourself out like a common maid…"

"No," she surprised him by saying. "That is not the reason I am here, of course not. But that doesn't mean I can't help make this place a bit more fit for human habitation…"

Robin looked at her incredulously for a moment, then promptly burst into laughter, his ready humor bubbling to the surface effortlessly.

"You will be the death of me, Stuart," he said presently, "I was prepared to argue with you and now it seems I have nothing left to say."

He became serious again.

"I wish I knew where the lines were, I wish I knew the correct thing to do," he said, running his hand through his thick hair. "For once, I am not sure. For once, I fear the consequences should I make a mistake will be too grave to even consider. I am so unsure of everything…"

"You saved my life, master, you and your men" she interrupted him gently, "you gave me a home, you are all I live for now." She paused as the reality of her statement sank in. "And frankly," she continued, "I never was so happy or so well cared for in my father's house."

She stopped for a minute because she felt an acute pain in her heart at the mere mention of her father. Robin sensed her discomfort and reaching out, he gripped her shoulder in sympathy. She leaned against him. The muscles in his arm tensed and he wanted to say something to comfort her, but he couldn't find the words, so he sat beside her, his eyes watering and his jaw working, for he felt her pain as if it were his own.

"I want to live like you," she continued in a moment, "I want to give whatever I can to this camp of brave men, of heroes. I want to do what little I can to help my land, my fellowmen, even through this remote way, by mending and washing your clothes. But then…"

"Yes…?" Robin said gently when she hesitated.

"I've been thinking. Your men would have every right to resent my presence here since I am so much trouble-"

"Resent!" Robin interrupted her in anger. "Who said that? They haven't come to me with it, or they would have had their share of blows!"

"No, master," Rosa said, laughing at his intense reaction in spite of herself, "no, no one said they resent me, but I see it and you do too, I'm sure, that they are a bit reserved towards me and they wonder how this will work out, as well they might." She stopped again and when she spoke her voice had dropped to a whisper. "I would like to earn their friendship."

"Rosa, listen to me," Robin said, turning her by the shoulders so that they were face to face, "they all respect you immensely, take my word for it. No man of mine would have done what you did, and these last few days you have proved yourself one of us in everything you did. Why, I haven't heard not one word of complaint come from your mouth, not for the hardness of your bed, nor the coolness of the water you have to bathe in, nor indeed for the fatigue and the pressure our mad schedule has brought on your still fragile health."

He paused and looked at her, examining her face and trying to determine her emotions at his words.

"Now I too have seen their looks, as you said, and I know that some may be jealous that I am constantly at your side, but soon they will see that you are the best thing that has happened to us since… since I came to the forest and took over the leadership from Little John."

She laughed aloud at this, and he closed his eyes to memorize the sound, the image of her happiness. He wanted to keep it with him always.

"I never truly laughed before I came here," she mused. "I never felt truly happy."

"And you do now?" he asked almost in a whisper.

She nodded.

"How could I not, with all these merry men around me, with the tall trees towering above me, and with…"

"Yes?" he prompted when her voice trailed off. "With…?"

"With you," she said.

They were still for a while, listening to the rustle of the leaves and the beating of their hearts.

She was still close to him, although no longer leaning on him, and he couldn't resist covering her fingers with his, as they sat there in quiet companionship. He caressed them slowly, discovering that they were chopped and cut from the cold of the water in which she had been washing the clothes.

He lifted them to his lips, feeling every small cut and bruise, his eyes watering at the injustice of it all.

"Your hands…" he said again, "your beautiful soft hands, they will be soon red and hard like a peasant's."

He lifted his gaze to her face.

"How can I not hate that? How can I reconcile myself to the fact that you are to live like this from now on?"

She only smiled.

"And yet, I still choose to stay," she said.

"It is agreed then," he said getting up with a determined look on his face. Rosa did not know it then, but he was fighting with himself to quench all his doubts and reassure himself that it was the best thing to do. It was settled. She would stay. She would stay, and devil may take the consequences.

"There will be no talking of you leaving," he said again quietly, as she stood up by his side. "Not a single word of it, for it kills me even to think of it."

He took her hand in his and pressed it as if to confirm their agreement. She nodded and relaxed against him, as if a tension, a fear had been chased away by his confirmation. He didn't let go of her.

"You will stay," he continued, "and you will be the princess of the forest," his voice became husky, "and you will be allowed to do exactly as you please, whether it is lounging in the sunshine all day long, or working yourself to death tending to my ungrateful men's various needs."

He bent his head low over hers and rested his chin on her red curls, holding her to him.

"And you will never leave me, because with you by my side I can do anything, I can save the whole of England, I can conquer the usurper himself, I can feed every urchin of the streets. Whereas without you…" he stopped and waited for her to lift her eyes to his. "Without you I can't even breathe," he finished, lifting a strand of her hair delicately with his fingers, reverently, as if it were made of gold or rubies.

They returned to the camp as the sun began it slow descent, glowing with a happiness that was new to them both. Robin cursed himself for missing his chance and not kissing her, for that desire had burned in him for a long time, but deep inside he knew he should bide his time and not press her too much all at once. Now more than ever he knew that even if she didn't show it she has struggling hard to adapt to life in the forest and to earn a place among the men. He would give her time and encouragement, and he would bide his time.

Friar Tuck's discerning eyes observed their flushed faces as they walked in the camp together, but they didn't see the look on his face, their attention distracted by loud banging noises that came from a group of men ahead.

Julian was in the middle, his sleeves rolled back to reveal his tanned muscles, his cheeks red with exertion and his eyes intent and serious. He was bending atop a small fire and sparks flew everywhere as with a hammer in his left hand he had began to bend his damaged sword into shape again. A few men gathered around him and watched him in fascination, speechless for once.

As Robin approached, they made way for him, but Julian didn't lift his eyes from his work.

"I sincerely hope you know what you are doing, my friend," Robin said and laughter followed his words.

Julian continued as if he hadn't heard, lifting for a second his right hand to wipe his brow, and then placing it in the same position as before, expertly.

"Would you like to try your hand at this, Robin Hood?" he said.

"I am afraid not," Robin said after a slight hesitation, although those who knew him well recognized the sparkle that lit his eyes, and knew that he wouldn't be able to resist a second invitation.

"I think he is really good," Gregory said in admiration after a small pause during which only the sound of metal upon metal sliced the silence of the forest. "Will you do mine next?"

"Could you make me a new one?" Matt asked enthusiastically. "I can't believe it! We have our own blacksmith!"

The men hugged each other in excitement, and Julian stopped his work, distracted. He turned to look at them and his constantly sad face bore an expression of impatience at their antics.

"Well, let's not get carried away," Robin said to his men, watching him. "We had better see first how much of a skill he's got. Maybe he can't do anything more than..."

Julian threw the hot hammer on the grass in exasperation, his sudden temper sending the men into peals of laughter.

"Would you like your heads flattened?" he said in anger. "'Cause a blacksmith can do that as well, you know."

"Ooh, tough!" the men continued to laugh but more softly now, because they saw he was irritated.

"You will be very valuable around here, Julian, I hope you know that," Robin said kindly and Julian nodded. He bent and picked up his hammer and turned to continue his work.

"You have worked as a blacksmith before?" Rosa asked with interest, but received no answer.

Julian went on striking the metal and the only indication he had heard her was that he pursed his lips in annoyance.

Rosa turned to go, but Robin took her arm to stop her. The men had fallen silent.

"I believe she asked you a question," Robin said with threatening calm.

He received no answer save for the clanging of the hammer.

Robin, furious now, reached out his hand to take the tool, and Julian missed hitting him with the hot iron just for a tenth of an inch. Immediately he dropped the hammer and looked up at him in surprise.

"She asked you a question," Robin repeated, not missing a beat. He could sense that he made everyone uncomfortable, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Why, yes, madam," Julian spat, after staring at Robin for a full half a minute, his gaze not meeting Rosa's and the word 'madam' sounding like an insult on his lips, "I worked as a blacksmith for three years in a village outside of Lyon." He stopped and clamped his lips shut as if he were determined not to be forced to say one more word to her. "It is in France," he added as an afterthought, with a smile, as if he was talking to a simpleton.

That was when Robin punched him in the face.

"That was nice going," Little John said to Robin Hood a few hours later as they were sitting down to eat.

Father Tuck was coming their way with a determined look in his eyes and Robin considered getting up and leaving without his dinner.

"What was?" he said to Little John nonchalantly.

"You know, the knocking out of our newest member."

Little John chuckled as Tuck reached them. He plopped down panting slightly.

"You were talking about the punch," he said matter-of-factly.

"Look, I don't know why you are making such a big deal of it," Robin said impatiently. "You both have been at the receiving end of one of these punches and I don't remember you complaining or anyone else coming to your defense. Julian, he too must learn that there is discipline in this place, that anyone can't go around doing as he pleases."

"A girl never was the reason before," Little John said dryly.

"Oh, not you too," Robin said. "Don't you start with me too. What harm has she ever done, has she complained about anything? Has she burdened you with extra work? Come on tell me, what's the matter with her eh?"

"Easy, man," John said taken aback at this passionate reply. "I didn't say she was to leave, only that…"

"Leave?" Robin cut him off, surprised. "Who said anything about her leaving?" he turned and faced his second-in-command in the eye. "You will tell me who doesn't want her here, won't you? I must know."

Little John sighed. It was true that this girl was changing his chief in many ways, and he wasn't sure he liked them. Who was this man, pleading with his eyes and with his words, this man who at another time would have gotten any answer he wanted by his blows?

"No one said that, Robbie, as far as I know," he answered carefully, "and that isn't what I meant, so will you calm down?"

Father Tuck cleared his throat loudly from the other side, and the men sent murderous looks his way.

"I was _only_ saying," Little John continued, beginning to get annoyed by this conversation, "that maybe there was no reason, maybe it was too much…"

"Let me be the judge of that," Robin said severely and Little John turned abruptly his back on him, offended.

"Come on, John, I don't want to quarrel with you," Robin said again more calmly. "It's just that you both come here, you and the holy man, pounding at me with your accusations, well, what do you want me to say, that I'm sorry I did it? Well, I'm not, I think it was long overdue him, and what's more I'd do it again."

They stayed like this, chewing their food vigorously in silence, until father Tuck spoke in his serene, almost smiling voice.

"I wasn't here to accuse you, boy," he said, "merely to ask."

"Well then ask away, and be done with it," Robin replied curtly.

"You plan to marry her, of course," Tuck went on unperturbed by his abrupt manner.

Little John almost choked and Robin's cup fell to the ground. Both men looked at the friar as if he had said that Robin planned to take the throne of England.

"My question is this," he said, pretending not to notice, "when?"

"What did you say?" Robin asked, and his voice sounded incredulous.

"It sounded as if he said… 'marry'?" John answered in a frightened whisper, pronouncing the word with care, as if it were a dangerous explosive.

"Have you drunk too much ale, old man?" Robin said. "You are talking nonsense."

"Oh no, I am perfectly sober." Tuck replied promptly. "You are the one whose cup is on the ground. Maybe you should sleep it off…"

He was interrupted by Robin's taking him by the shoulders and shaking him until his teeth rattled.

"Explain yourself, Tuck," he said. "Now."

Friar Tuck waited patiently until Robin left him alone and then made a point of arranging his cap and sitting once again straight against the bark of the tree.

"How young you are, Robin," he said finally and his eyes were kind and serious. "I forget sometimes, that though you are our leader, you are still incredibly young."

Robin hung his head down. An infinite sadness came over him and John seemed to sense it, for he gripped his shoulder in silent support.

"Don't you see what is happening?" Father Tuck went on, "you are in love with this girl, this clever, beautiful girl whom you were besotted with even when she was a boy."

Robin lifted his face and saw that the friar's eyes were gleaming as he saw his expression and even if he hadn't known it when he said it, he knew now that he was right.

"All of us can see it, and I am sure she can too. And she seems to worship the ground you walk on."

The friar paused for effect, but Robin said nothing for once, he only buried his head in his folded hands. Father Tuck's heart ached for this fatherless boy who had made a name for himself in the world but yet didn't know his own heart.

"Did you really think that you could steal kisses, that you could hold her hand and talk to her all starry-eyed and it wouldn't affect her?" he said. "And what will you do with her, once you are no longer satisfied by merely watching her, what will you do when you find out she loves you too? Will you keep her, unmarried? I don't think your heart will bear it, she being a lady and all."

Robin shuddered involuntarily at these words.

"But even if she wasn't," Tuck said, "you still wouldn't have her as your mistress, for _you_ are a gentleman at heart no matter that you don't have the lands to prove it."

"I had not thought of it this way," Robin said after a while, his voice sounding broken and hoarse. "What am I doing? She deserves better than this."

Father Tuck shrugged.

"But if this is what she wants?" he said. "Ask her, and you'll see."

"Ask her what?"

"To marry you, of course!"

"No!" Robin shouted, appalled at the idea. "I would never marry her, I'd never _do_ that to her." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I love her too well."

"Then, maybe you should tell her to leave," Little John said slowly, as if he was considering the words carefully.

"That's the thing, I can't," Robin said, tormented.

"Listen to me, boys," Tuck said firmly. He loved calling them boys even though Little John was a good ten years older than Robin.

"Listen to me. You," he indicated Robin with his finger, "are making a mistake by not asking her to marry you. I think she would say yes. As for asking her to leave, don't do that. It's obvious she is enjoying herself. After all, there are some of us who have chosen to live here in the forest, even though we were not outlaws at the first place," he added, thinking of himself. "_She_ however, she was an outlaw long before she appeared half-dead outside our camp, so where would she be better protected than here?"

"Yes, that's it," Robin said almost leaping from the ground in his sudden excitement. "She has to stay here for protection! She _has_ to." He placed a kiss on the priest's balding head. "I'll always love you for what you said right now, father Tuck."

Tuck laughed amusedly and motioned for him to sit down.

"Calm yourself, you crazy boy," he said, "I am not yet finished with you. If you heed my advice, you will ask her to marry you. It will make you happy, I think," he added tenderly.

"It would, immensely," Robin answered, "but what of her? I can't tie her to a man like myself, don't you see? What do I have to offer her? This is no life for her. What woman would be content to live as we do?"

Tuck observed him for a while, taking in his tortured eyes and his furrowed brow.

"She, I think," he answered quietly.

But Robin shook his head and dropped back on the ground.

"You do as your heart tells you, boy," father Tuck said, "and not as your foolish brain. And _you_," he pointed at Little John, "you learn to accept her presence here and teach your friends to do the same."

"But, father…" John started saying, a confused expression on his face.

"You know what I'm talking about," Tuck persisted. "You reconcile yourself to the girl and learn to love her as best you can." He leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes as if settling for a nap, but the two men heard clearly his next words. "For she is here to stay."

The next day Rosa was surprised at Robin's behavior to her, but she didn't show it. He seemed aloof and distant and didn't even look her way. She was surprised by how much she missed his concern for her and his comments, sometimes appreciative, sometimes tender and most often ridiculously funny, as he passed her while she was tending to her chores.

The days passed however and he continued to ignore her. Rosa, not knowing how it pained him to stay away from her, concluded that she had somehow displeased or even worse, disappointed him. She would have fallen into a deep depression if she had allowed herself the luxury, but she reprimanded herself sharply and decided to try her best notwithstanding Robin's behavior. She wouldn't be of much help around the camp if the was moping around all day. Besides, she told herself, it wasn't as if she didn't know this would happen sooner or later. Robin had been very good and attentive to her while she needed him, but now that she was well and strong again, he had more important things to do than be a lonely girl's companion.

So she went about her business as before and tried to coax Little John and Matt to teach her combat. John was impressed by her grace with the stick and Matt's job was easy as she knew how to handle a sword already. The days passed uneventfully for her, waiting for the men to come back from their excursions and not asking to be taken along, for she had lost the heart for it now that she knew Robin didn't want her. She concentrated at keeping the men clean and their bellies full and they appreciated her for that far more than if she were to fight with them every day.

Slowly she began to learn now to fashion arrows, and Little John, with whom she had become great friends as soon as she lost Robin, it seemed, spend hours patiently showing her how to make a sturdy bow. She watched closely and tried to imitate his actions, made one of her own. What she was too ashamed to admit, though, was that she didn't know how to use one. She kept her secret in the midst of a forest full of excellent archers and prayed that she wouldn't need to use a bow herself.

As summer approached the whole camp was aflutter with the promise of the feast the men held twice a year among themselves, with archery contests, games, wrestling, prizes and food. A lot of food. Robin had started these feasts as a way to help them forget the sorry excuse for a life they were leading as outlaws, but they had had so much success so far, that the men insisted they had them twice a year, one in the summer and one in winter, filling their days from months before with anticipation and joy. This year however his heart was much too heavy to let him participate in the general excitement, although he knew he would have to play his part in the contest no matter how he felt.

Meanwhile, things were falling back to normal at the castle. The Sheriff was still recovering from his humiliation at the hands of the outlaws and from the realization that his daughter had actually escaped with her life.

He wasn't forming any plan just yet, however; he was licking his wounds and biding his time. And when it came, it would be catastrophic for the merry men band, he was sure of it.

The days were dragging along and he didn't have anyone to confide in. He had written to Sir Hugh repeatedly, receiving no answer, and soon after Rosa's imprisonment news began to reach him of that worthy's presence in London. Rumor had it that he was nursing a broken heart, and refused to see anyone. The Sheriff thought about it and turned it in his mind a million times, wondering if he should himself inform him of the loss of his daughter or to wait for the disturbing news to reach him. He considered and hesitated, and then finally one day he had hesitated too long.

Late one evening the gates of the castle opened to admit a weary traveler's horse, which was foaming at the mouth from the speed with which its soaked rider, Sir Hugh himself, had ridden it from London.

A few minutes later, he stormed into the Sheriff's rooms roaring in anger and pain, his long black cloak still dripping rain on the floor around his black boots and demanded explanations. Explanations and revenge.

The Sheriff looked into Sir Hugh's bloodshot eyes and trembling white lips with secret amusement. He didn't get up to welcome his honorable guest, as he would have done once. Instead, he leaned back into his favorite tall chair for comfort and prepared himself for a rather unexpectedly pleasant evening.


	15. Chapter 15: The Challenge

_**Author's note**__: _

_many thanks to __Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__ for the lovely review. I am pleased to report that one of the two things you asked for actually happen in this chapter. I hope they are satisfactory. _

_ShakespeareSchoolGirl__, thanks for more than just a review, you're the best! I don't know what I've done to deserve a friend like you. _

_Also __many many thanks to everyone who read, favorited and/or alerted this story. You'll never know what it means to me. I'm really anxious to know what you think of this chapter. So…_

CHAPTER 15

THE CHALLENGE

The Sheriff observed the dance of the flames across Sir Hugh's thin and sullen face. He felt a low chuckle begin to rise from his belly, but suppressed it before it bubbled out. People could be so stupid, he thought. So easily manipulated. So blind.

He had given enough time to the young man to vent his anger and his accusations. Indeed he was beginning to get bored. Time to change the flow of this one-sided conversation. He leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face closer to Sir Hugh's and noticing the stubble on his chin and the sunkeness of his cheeks with distaste.

"Listen to me, boy," he began as tenderly as he could. "Don't let your judgment be clouded by malicious slander, don't let them poison your thoughts. You know me, don't you?"

"I thought I did," came the bitter answer.

The Sheriff sighed dramatically.

"It is as I thought," he said feigning resign. "My letters reached you too late. Or maybe not at all. I thought they might intercept them, but I imagined I trusted my couriers…"

"What letters? What are you talking about? Who is 'they'?"

"Ahhh…" said the Sheriff and fell to staring into the fire mysteriously.

"Tell me, man, don't beat about the bush so!"

Sir Hugh was beginning to get impatient. The Sheriff smiled inwardly. This was a nice change from his previous accusing words, he thought.

"I was hoping to break it to you more gently," he said reluctantly. "Her suffering, her… death…" he wiped an imaginary tear from his cheek. "Their role in it. Oh my poor girl, how she must have suffered. And though she was a traitor to me –you see, I know that at last- but still, to die in the hands of those she thought her friends… A death so cruel I can't even begin to imagine…" he stopped and buried his head in his palms.

Sir Hugh watched him in speechless horror and seemed unable even to breathe.

"How much greater is my hate for them now, I couldn't possibly begin to tell you, my friend," the Sheriff continued and his voice trembled with genuine emotion now, "although I had hoped that you would be more on my side than you seem to be."

"Them? Who are they? What did they do to her?" Sir Hugh shouted, having finally found his voice. He got up, storming about the room, barely able to contend his desperation.

"Why, didn't you know?" the Sheriff raised his eyebrows incredulously. "They murdered her in the forest, of course. Robin Hood and his men." He chucked darkly. "To spite me, of all things."

Silence, ominous and pregnant followed his cruel statement.

"They… what? I thought, that is I heard…" Sir Hugh stammered in confusion.

The Sheriff looked at him through lowered eyelashes that concealed his triumph. _Time you felt a little foolish yourself, my friend_, he thought to himself. He shrugged, as if further speech was impossible.

"I thought they were against murder," Sir Hugh said after a bit.

"They obviously changed their policy for my benefit," the Sheriff answered easily. "Or else they used her for as long as she was of use to them and then decided to discard her like an old dog."

Sir Hugh's eyes watered in spite of himself as he recalled the way Rosa had spoken of the outlaw, Robin Hood, how her eyes had sparkled with pride and loyalty, how she had defied his comments and ignored his warnings. He passed his palm across his face. No, he had no difficulty believing that the Sheriff was telling the truth, and he was intent on finding out even more of it. As much as he could.

The Sheriff folded his hands across his rotund stomach as Sir Hugh sat back down, looking even more heart-broken and sullen than before if possible, but at last ready to talk reason.

A couple of days before this significant meeting, Robin Hood woke up in the morning with no idea of how close everything, including his very existence, was to being knocked off balance and tumbling into the abyss. He did have a huge appetite however and, after his daily ablutions, decided to walk towards the eating area of the camp and see what was being cooked. As he got closer he noticed that no pleasant smell met his sensitive nostrils and became suddenly suspicious.

Sure enough, the camp was empty.

A couple of the loudest snores from the sleeping men managed to penetrate the distance and reached his ears, but that, aside from the chirping of the morning birds, was the only sound around. He shook his head.

Rosa had been at her post almost every day since her recovery, quickly becoming a fixture beside the large cooking pot, the good father Tuck usually sprawled in a plump heap on the grass next to her. The men had gotten so much used to her waking up a good half hour before them, that they no longer noticed it. He noticed, however. He noticed the gathering light playing with her hair, he noticed her slender fingers moving nimbly across the pots and pans, he noticed her ready smile and her kind eyes. He also noticed the sharp pang he felt in his heart every time he saw her there, fresh and beautiful like the sunshine, so close to him and yet so completely untouchable, as far away from him as if she was still living in the castle.

How he longed to sit beside her, to talk to her or to simply watch her, drinking in the sight of her. All he could do however, it seemed, was to grunt in her direction by way of greeting and go and sit himself on the farthest side of the clearing, stealing glances at her in spite of himself all the time.

None of this was possible today however, and he tried not to worry, thinking to himself that she was entitled to a bit more sleep and that her failing to show up didn't necessarily mean she was unwell.

"No use sitting around and looking at the remains of yesterday's fire, my boy," father Tuck's voice said behind him. "Ain't going to cook yourself breakfast that way."

"Just waiting for you, old man," Robin said, trying to conceal his expression from the friar's piercing blue eyes.

"You're early today," Tuck observed as he bent down with difficulty to start the fire.

"My empty stomach woke me," Robin answered waving him away, and tending to that task himself.

"Your girl won't be here for a good while yet," Tuck said as soon as the flames rose.

"How do you know?" Robin asked, choosing to ignore the reference to 'his girl'.

"She's having her lesson now, that's how."

"What lesson? What on earth are you talking about, Tuck?"

"Her fencing lesson, of course."

Father Tuck glanced over, his wide good-natured face creaking into an amused smile at Robin's incredulous expression.

"Are you still dreaming, old man?" Robin said. "Maybe you need your sleep like a babe."

"'Tis not me who is sleeping, lad," father Tuck chuckled. "I am not the one who doesn't know what is going on in my own camp."

Robin looked at him, blinking.

"What?" he said again.

This time the friar burst out laughing.

"Go see for yourself," he said at last, pointing at the direction of the cluster of trees the men had created to conceal their sports and practicing at fencing, wrestling, and archery.

"Although I guess," he went on, "that it would rather ruin their sport, but you seem to-" he stopped however as he realized that he was alone.

Rosa was delivering a series of delicate but direct strikes to her opponent, Matt, with her wooden sword, slicing the wind with her graceful movements and trying to simultaneously pay attention to Matt's constant comments, such as: "good, see? Now you have me" or "no, not that way, move your feet, there, no sideways, no, yes, that's better" and so on, when a voice coming from the bushes made her almost jump from her skin.

"You are never going to master the art of sword-fighting practicing with that oaf," the familiar voice said, carrying a mixture of humor and sternness.

They both turned to face him.

He appeared oddly out of breath, as if he had run the whole distance from the camp, and his black eyes were gleaming like embers.

"Hey there, chief," Matt said cheerfully, pushing his sweat-drenched hair away from his forehead, "good morrow."

"Nothing good about it, thank you," Robin said.

Rosa said nothing, she just stood there, wooden sword in hand, watching him staring at her in anger and trying to catch her breath.

"Something wrong, chief?" Matt asked suddenly anxious.

"No more than stumbling into the worst lesson of sword-fight in history, I guess," Robin answered coolly.

"Oh," Matt said, turning crimson.

An awkward silence followed. "So what was I doing wrong?" Matt burst out finally. Robin laughed harshly.

"Where is your sword?" he said. "Not that," he continued when Matt proffered his wooden one, "that's a toy."

"I couldn't fight with a lady with a steel one," Matt said lowering his voice as if Rosa wasn't standing right next to him. "Would be too dangerous," he finished feeling like a fool.

Rosa began to chuckle.

"I wouldn't do her the insult of even thinking that," Robin said indignantly, "let alone saying it to her face."

"Oh," Matt said again, at which point Rosa sat down laughing.

"I'll take over," Robin said with a finality in his voice which brooked no objection. "Right after breakfast," he added, remembering his hunger and reaching out his hand to help Rosa up.

She took it, feeling the sparks flying between them even at the mere touch of his hand. She got up, but he didn't let go. So they stood there, her hand in his, their eyes locked and their breaths coming short as the sun above them gained height and power.

Rosa felt as if a minute longer and she would be forever lost in his eyes and the depth of feeling she saw there. But a fraction of a second later he let go of her hand and said:

"Come on."

And they went to eat. They returned a half an hour later, Robin holding two real swords in one hand and a dozen arrows in the other. On his back was strapped his beloved bow, and next to it a smaller one, the one Little John had taught Rosa to make. Rosa's heart beat wildly.

"I can't," she said finally, after taking some time to debate whether there was a way she could pretend she knew what she was doing with the bow and arrow she had in her hands. But no, there was no way around it. She couldn't, and so she told him.

Robin's brow furrowed.

"I have tired you," he said, examining her face with concern.

They had spent no more than half an hour fencing before Robin was satisfied they could move on to his favorite sport. He had given her some time to rest herself, but now he was wondering whether he had already pressed her too far.

He passed her the flask of water she had carried with her from the camp and she drank thirstily, realizing that her lips were suddenly dry.

"No," she said slowly and put the cap back on the flask.

"No?" Robin repeated stupidly, for he could think nothing more at that second than the tantalizing way a few droplets of water still hung from her red lips. He shook himself out of his trance abruptly.

"I just can't do it," Rosa said again.

"You can't bend the bow? Is it too… Let me see."

She gave it to him with a rueful smile.

"Oh, I imagine I can bend it all right," she said. "The problem is, I don't know which way to bend it so that the arrow doesn't land in my foot."

Robin looked at her in surprised, taking in her meaning. Then he started laughing, his slow, luscious laugh that rang through the trees and seemed to reach the sky. Rosa felt too much self-conscious to join him, but suddenly it occurred to her that she had been rather silly not telling him all this time.

He stopped laughing and his eyes became serious.

"That was rather careless of you," he said.

"Taking the bow in my hands?"

"No, neglecting to tell me you couldn't use it."

She hung her head.

"Look at me," he commended but his voice was gentle and quiet. He lifter a finger to her chin. "Look at me, Rosa," he said again.

She did.

"For your safety," he told her drinking in the emerald of her eyes. "That's all I meant. Personally, I wouldn't give a d—n if you couldn't tell a bow from an arrow. But in this forest, knowing how to use one may well mean the difference between life and death." He shuddered at the mention of these words, and his hand moved upwards to cup her cheek. "Please," he said, "will you let me teach you a few basics?"

She simply nodded, for she couldn't trust her voice just then.

"Good," he said, releasing her and the sparkle was there in his eyes again.

He put the bow in her hands and circled her waist to position her fingers lightly over the cord.

"Caress it," he whispered in her ear, "run your hand gently as though on the fur of a living thing. Introduce yourself and let your fingers become acquainted with the breathing of the air through the cord."

He never knew how he resisted taking her in his arms and kissing her till she had no breath left, but after almost an hour of practice, he was still in control of himself. Barely, but he was.

Rosa had made great progress with the bow and although she still was far from even hitting the centre of the mark Robin had made for their lesson, she was so pleased with her progress, that she didn't notice the wounds on her fingers until they made even the simple task of holding the bow impossible. He hands were more rough now than when she had first come to the forest, but still unused to holding the bow, and the long hour of practice was beginning to show on her tender skin. It was ripped clean at some places, while at others it had formed large blisters, which hurt just as badly, if not worse. The sun overhead was indicating the late hour, but none of them noticed it, enwrapped by the fascination of the sport and each other's proximity.

Robin had lifted his bow to show her a particular movement, and let go of the arrow slowly. It hit the very centre of the mark with incredible precision. He turned to her.

"Can you try it?"

She lifted her bow, but as soon as she tried to position the arrow, she dropped it suddenly with a cry of pain, sinking to the ground.

Robin was next to her at once, and lifted her white face to examine it with a curse.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Rosa?"

She couldn't speak at first, just clutched her hand, and Robin pried her fingers open as gently as he could.

He saw the wounds on her fingers, which had saturated her second and third finger with blood and the raw skin of her palm, which was torn in the middle and now also bleeding. Without a word, he tore the lower part of his tunic and turning it inside out, and then saturated it with water. He wiped the blood away, glancing at her tense face, but she didn't make a sound, gritting her teeth and setting her mouth. As soon as the wounds were satisfactorily clean, he tore another piece of cloth and formed an impromptu bandage which he skillfully wrapped around her palm, then around each of her injured fingers.

He did the same with her left hand, which although less injured was also slightly bleeding. Then he simply sat there and watched her, until the silence between them filled the whole space around them and spread into the trees.

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I didn't think… maybe Matt was right."

"No, he wasn't," Rosa said quickly, fearing she knew where this was going, and dreading that her practicing hours would become a thing of the past.

"No, he wasn't of course," Robin agreed surprising her, "not about everything. But about you being a lady and all…"

She smiled at him and stretched her hose-clad legs in front of her.

"That bears discussing," she said and he smiled too.

"I was wondering," she said quickly, wanting to steer the subject away from dangerous waters, "why you shouted so at poor Matt. I mean, really were we doing everything _that_ wrong?"

"Well, no, you were doing fine as far as I could tell," he replied nonchalantly.

"Then why?" Rosa asked, incredulous.

He didn't answer at first, just sat there playing with a blade of grass between his long fingers.

"I was jealous," he said simply.

There was nothing to be said by way of answer to that, so Rosa didn't speak again for a while.

"Look," Robin said finally and then stopped.

He got up as if he had changed his mind and walked away, then came back. He took a deep breath.

"Look," he said again, "I'm sorry about your hands, I should have known this would happen."

"And I am sorry about your tunic," Rosa replied in the same tone, though not quite as tormented, "although I guess I will have to sew you another one, so-" she shrugged. "My hand will mend; your tunic will be mended, so all is well."

"You will not give up then?" he said, coming to her again, "you will continue with your training?"

"If I have not disappointed you terribly today, and you still want to be my teacher."

He looked at her, a small smile forming on his lips, his eyes shining with intensity.

"Oh, you have not disappointed me. Quite the contrary, really," he said. Then he seemed to remember himself and he turned from her.

"It's time to go," he said abruptly. "Come."

To Rosa it seemed like he was suddenly transformed before her very eyes from the merry Robin Hood of her early days in the camp, to the stern and aloof chief of the past months. Puzzled and hurt, she got up to follow his receding from among the trees.

She had taken only two steps when he turned around abruptly and ran back to her. He stopped a mere third of an inch in front of her, his chest heaving, his mouth trembling.

"Forgive me for this," he said and then he placed his hands on her shoulders and closed the remaining distance between their lips.

They were both shaking when the kiss ended, shaking and holding on to each other as if they were drowning and had gotten hold of the only thing that was steady and reliable in the whole crumbling world around them. His hands were still in her hair, tracing the contours of her head, then her face, then her swollen lips.

"God," he said, shutting his eyes for a moment, "I don't even regret it."

"Oh, come on Ju," Gregory was saying that night as they were all gathered around the fire. "Give us something, just a tiny bit of glimpse into your past. We know absolutely nothing about you man!"

"What would you want to know?" Julian asked in a rather menacing tone, which however had no effect on Gregory.

"About women," Gregory answered without hesitation.

"What about them?"

"Why do you hate them?"

Little John snickered audibly. "Careful there, Gregory," he said.

"I don't hate them," Julian said without lifting his eyes.

There was a roar of laughter. Of course this conversation wouldn't have taken place if Rosa were there, but for some reason or other she was absent at that particular moment, as Julian had asserted with a glance as soon as Gregory began with his prying questions.

"I despise them," he went on when the noise abated. "And, what is more," he continued looking straight at Robin "I find it very hard to respect any person belonging to the fair sex."

Everyone was quiet after this vehement declaration.

"Obviously you have been betrayed or hurt by some woman," Robin said dryly after a bit, bit that's no reason to generalize…"

"I have been hurt, betrayed and disgusted by every woman I have ever met," Julian answered matter-of-factly.

"Except your mother," Gilbert said, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears at the memory of his own mother's tragic death a few years ago.

Julian turned to face him with slow, deliberate movements. He would be an exceptionally handsome lad, Robin thought fleetingly, if he wasn't so bitter.

"My own mother first and foremost," Julian was saying now.

Little John scoffed.

"I don't believe this lad," he said. "There can't have been only bad ones in your entire life. I don't know what your mother did to you, and it's none of my business, but at some point, maybe right before that first wench that shattered your whole world, somewhere in your existence, there must have been a good woman."

No sound followed his words for a moment, nothing but the loud cracking of the flames, and Robin was nodding to Will to start a new song on his lyre, when Julian spoke again, slowly and deliberately, as if extricating the words from some place deep inside him where they had long been hidden.

"You are right, there was," he began. "There was someone who is the reason why I hate all womankind so passionately. She was at the beginning of everything and at the end. She was everything that was good in my life. And everything that was bad."

And then he stopped.

"That's a bit cryptic," Gregory said after it became obvious Julian wasn't about to continue.

"And yet, that's it," Julian retorted.

"At least tell us who she was," someone shouted impatiently.

"That's the funniest part of all," Julian said after a brief pause. "She wasn't my lover as you all seem to think. Or my mistress or wife. She wasn't even a woman, she was only a girl. She didn't even have a chance to become a woman, although if she had, I wouldn't be resentful towards all of them. If she was alive in the world, I somehow know it would be a better place than it is today. But she died when she was a little girl. I was holding her hand one moment and the next she was gone." He stopped and turned bloodshot eyes to Robin. "She was my little sister," he said.

No one knew what to say.

"I'm sorry, son," father Tuck said at last, laying a hand on Julian's shoulder.

"You're sorry?" Julian said, sarcastically. "_I_ am sorry. I didn't have anything to live for as soon as I lost her. I had already lost everything before, home, family, prospects, but I didn't mind so much. Me and her, we were going to change the world. Only we didn't. We couldn't even save ourselves when the time came. Or I couldn't save her, I guess, since I was the older one."

He got up abruptly.

"Play something, will you Scarlet?" he said to Will, who was seated to his left. "I can't bear these morose thoughts a minute longer, and I'm sure none of you want to."

Obediently Will started one of his tunes, and the men tried their best to make merry, but the tune was one of his more melancholy ones, and no one could shake Julian's words from their minds. He himself, meanwhile went and sat next to Robin.

"I don't want you to think ill of me, chief," he said in a low voice, only for Robin's ears.

"I don't think ill of you, Ju," Robin said. "Showing respect and feeling it may be two different things for you, but I _will_ demand the first, you know that now, don't you? You may do as you like with the second, for all I care."

"It's just…"

"Yes?"

"She had red hair, my sister, Joanna," he said with a quiver in his voice.

"Joanna was your sister's name?" Robin said softly.

He nodded.

"Red hair. Like rich copper. Just like hers." He indicated with his head Rosa's cabin. "That's why I can't bear even the sight of her."

"I see," Robin said simply.

"I can't help but hate her, you know. Thinking how Joanna would be, and comparing and…"

"I don't know that you can't help it, Julian," Robin answered after Julian's sentence trailed into silence.

"Oh, but I can't," Julian said and got up abruptly. In a minute, he had disappeared into the silence ahead.

Robin sighed and got up too. It had hit him hard, Julian's story, too, and he needed to walk into the trees ahead for a couple of minutes to cool his head. He had only reached the fringe of the thick bush behind him and Will's melody was reaching his ears, sweet and sad, when he heard a sob. He squinted into the darkness and saw a slight figure seated on the ground.

"Rosa?" he whispered as he approached her quickly.

As soon as they had arrived back at the camp, he had done his best to avoid her and to go back to his previous mode, but he found that the kiss they had exchanged had widened the whole in his chest instead of satisfying him temporarily as he had thought it would. He went to Paul and told him to dress her wounds properly and had not spoken to her since. But now, seeing her bent like than, sitting alone in the darkness and hearing her distress, he didn't think twice before he reached her and took her in his arms.

And then she was crying against his chest, her arms folded against him, her narrow frame wracked by sobs, her tears saturating his tunic. And his heart ached for her pain, whatever it was, but it couldn't help being glad also, in a perverse kind of way, that she was once more where she belonged, in his arms.

He held her and stroked her back murmuring comforting words until her sobs calmed a little, and then he looked at her face trying to decide what was the matter.

"Tell me," he said simply.

Then he looked at her again more carefully as she tried to wipe her cheeks, although new tears were coursing down them, and he knew.

"You heard everything," he said, not asking.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said and her voice was husky with tears, "I didn't mean to, but I was coming to sit with you all, and I heard him talking and I turned to go back because I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable, but I couldn't go, I wanted to hear the story, and then he came to you and said…"

"I know," Robin interrupted her, "I know."

He lifted a finger to her eye, wiping away a freshly-fallen tear and folded her again in his arms, trying to still her trembling.

"Shhh," he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"It's not that he hates me," she said, her voice sounding muffled, "it's not that, I felt that from the first moment, and I know there's nothing I can do about it."

"That what is it?" Robin asked, confused.

"That girl, Joanna," Rosa said. "I don't know why, but I'm crying for that dead little girl."

In two day's time, Rosa's hands were sufficiently healed for her to be able to handle a bow again. She didn't want to wait any longer, for she feared she would forget the little she had already learned. She waited her lesson with much anticipation, but was rather disappointed as Robin was completely businesslike and serious and although he proved to be a gentle and caring teacher, the warmth they had shared that first day of lessons was completely gone.

She tried to tell herself that she didn't care, that all that mattered was that she was with him, but it really hurt her and it puzzled her, why he was blowing hot one day and cold the next.

In later days she thought that if she had known what was to follow that second archery lesson, she would have made the most of it, she would have savored every single moment of Robin's presence beside her, she wouldn't have spent so mush time trying to decipher his attitude towards her, but would simply have enjoyed his presence.

As it was, however, she had no idea of the catastrophe that awaited them both, and concentrated on her lesson as if there were a million more to come.

In the afternoon she sat with Gilbert, Paul and Will, who insisted she help them with the upcoming feast, since a woman's touch were much needed and would be extremely appreciated. She wasn't exactly sure of that, but she threw herself in the plans with energy and started trying to explain to them why a feast for a band of men would be absolutely unthinkable without flower decorations.

She was in the middle of a heated argument with Little John, who had happened to pass by and accidentally hear the word "daffodils", when Mark, who was on guard duty that day, flew in the camp to announce that a rider was circling an area near the camp as if "looking for trouble."

Robin took a few of his men to investigate.

They came back but a few minutes later, with a black horse in their midst, a black horse with a black-clad rider on top.

"Wait there," Rosa heard Robin's voice commanding his men and turned to take a better look at the visitor.

She hadn't had time to discern his features, although she was pretty sure she had recognized him already, when Robin had reached her in a few wide strides and was suddenly bending towards her, his expression anxious as she had rarely seen it. He stood before her so that she was concealed from the stranger, and his black eyes were studying her intensely, as they so often did.

"Look discreetly," he told her in a low voice, "so that he doesn't see you. Do you know him? He says he knows you."

"I do," Rosa said, "and he does. He's Sir Hugh DeHavenger, my father's…"

"I know who he is," Robin said impatiently, and squatted down in front of her.

"Will you do something for me?" he asked.

"Anything," she answered immediately.

"I don't ask that often of you," Robin began tentatively, as if he was afraid she would refuse. "But I am asking it now. Will you please go and hide somewhere with…" he looked around quickly. "With Will," he finished. His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to understand.

"Of course I will do what you say, master," she replied at once, worried by his urgent expression. "What troubles you?"

A fleeting smile crossed his face at her concern.

"I don't like this," he said. "The man comes straight from your father's house, yet he speaks of you as though you were dead. He seems angry, furious… I don't know what they are playing at this time, and I want you out of the way until I find out."

He looked at her for a minute, holding onto her arm when she would have got up.

"I swear you shall be safe, although I can't come with you," he said. "You… you are not afraid?"

"Only for you, master," she replied.

He took her hand in his and pressed a kiss on it. He lifted his eyes to her face and was gone.

Will took Rosa to her cabin, which was quite remote from the clearing, and the settled down to wait, Will intending to run over after some time to see what was happening.

Meanwhile, at a nod from Robin, Sir Hugh was alighting from his horse, his eyes gleaming hatred and his long cloak billowing about him.

He did not make an attempt to draw his sword, but neither did the men disarm him. Robin had said not to. The man had simply asked to talk to him, and he was willing to show him a certain amount of goodwill.

"What can I do for you this fine evening, Sir Hugh?" Robin asked with his sweetest voice.

"Only this," Sir Hugh answered, folding his hands across his broad chest.

"Let's hear it," Robin said under his breath as the other cleared his throat dramatically.

"I have come," Sir Hugh finally said, "to duel with you, Robin whom they call of the Hood, to the death. Do you accept my challenge? Or should I start without you?"

With this, he at last drew his long sword out of its sheath.


	16. Chapter 16: The Duel

_**Author's Note**__: Thank you so much for encouraging me and pushing me to update soon. I hope this chapter is all you had hoped it would be. The story reaches a crucial crossroad at the end of it, and I am really interested to know what you think should, or would, happen next. _

_Also, I need a good gentleman's name, and I seem to have run out of ideas. Any suggestions?_

_Thanks for pressing the button that brought you to this page, you don't know what it means to me. Enjoy!_

_ShakespeareSchoolGirl__: thanks so much for the first review, you're amazing. I sat down and started writing directly after receiving your review. _

_WelshGirl4Life__: thanks a million for your flattering review. I really hope you stopped banging your head against that wall… __ can't wait to hear what you think of this one._

_Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__: you always leave the sweetest reviews, and I thank you for encouraging me. I really don't deserve it_

_AlwaysInLoveWithTheVillain__: sorry for the errors. As for Julian's story, there is quite a lot more to it, but you will just have to be patient. This chapter reveals a bit more about his past, however the whole story will take some unraveling. Thanks for the review, I appreciate it._

_CeaseFireOne__: What can I say about your review? It took my breath away! It was the longest, most flattering, most encouraging review. I read it about a hundred times. Then I sat down and wrote till my fingers hurt… __ thank you thank you thank you. Let me know what you thought of this one, I am looking forward to it. _

_This chapter is dedicated to you five. _

_No other FanFiction author has reviewers (and readers) like you!_

CHAPTER 16

THE DUEL

The men rushed to detain him.

Robin suppressed a laugh.

"Who do you think you are, Sir Hugh DeHavenger, coming here and demanding a duel you have no chances of winning, from a man you've never met before, for a reason that God only knows?" he said, all in one breath.

The men cheered.

"I'll tell you what," Sir Hugh replied, not losing his calm, "you fight me all the same and if you get out of it alive, you'll try to find out the answers to all these questions."

Robin had by now realized that this was not an enemy to be thought of lightly, and that in contrast to his colleague the Sheriff, this man had brains and courage to boot.

He stretched his arm and one of the men put his sword in his fist wordlessly. He raised an eyebrow at Sir Hugh.

"Was there ever any doubt that I would accept?" he asked mockingly.

"Seems to me we wouldn't stand here talking if there wasn't," Sir Hugh answered in the same tone.

And they began.

Rosa tried to sit still for all of five minutes, and then her patience was at an end. She looked inquiringly up at Will and he winced in sympathy. He, too, was sitting quiet, but it was obvious he was straining his ears, trying to hear what was happening at the other side of the clearing.

They had heard cheering and shouting at the beginning, but now all was silent. After a couple more minutes had passed, neither of them could stand it any longer.

"Do you think I should go, see what is happening?" Will asked her, hesitating.

"I think you had better," she answered quickly.

"But if Robin should say that I was supposed to…"

"Just take a quick look around, see if they are gone, for I can no longer hear them."

He nodded, persuaded.

In a minute, he was gone, his light step silent as he ran through the forest.

More than a quarter of an hour passed and he was not back yet.

She went after him.

Rosa heard the clanging of the swords long before she had the first glimpse of the scene. All was silent, except for the sound of metal upon metal. The men, Robin and Sir Hugh were fighting with all their might, their hair matted with sweat, their lips pursed in grim determination, their legs swift and agile, their sword-carrying arms strong and steady.

A bright streak of red ran down Sir Hugh's left cheek, starting on his forehead and threatening to blind his vision. Robin's right sleeve was torn, but he seemed as fresh and cheerful as if he had had a long night's sleep right in the middle of the duel. Sir Hugh, on the contrary, the heavier man of the two, was quickly tiring, but hid it well. His eyes were steely, full of hatred and full of… something else. Revenge, maybe.

He seemed to have aged since she had last seen him, to have somehow changed. His cheeks were more sunken, his grey-blue eyes were dripping ice, his lips were thinner than ever. And he had always been clothed in black, but today his garments seemed to reflect something dark that was lurking deep into his soul.

_He looks like he is in pain_, she realized_. And not from the cut on his brow_.

She stepped forward to take a better look at him, her heart filled with sudden sympathy. No one had noticed her until then, the men –including Will- were standing around, watching mesmerized the expert footwork, the artful strokes, the exceptional skill of every move. They did not speak, they did not cheer. They stood in silence, hardly daring to breathe from the suspense.

She wasn't very far from the first row of watching men, when she caught Sir Hugh's eye. This happened perhaps because she was the only moving thing around them, perhaps because she was briefly in his line of vision, perhaps because she was looking at him so intently. He saw her, however, and stopped short.

He gripped his sword again in a heartbeat, but his hesitation had been enough for Robin. Before he knew what had hit him, his sword was knocked from his hand and he found himself on the ground, facing the outlaw's looming form overhead and feeling the cold steel pressed to his throat.

"Out of mere curiosity," Robin said, and although he was panting slightly, his tone had an air of irony mingled with authority, that even his men found most intimidating, "will you state your business finally now, or wait till after I have plunged my sword to through your throat?"

But Sir Hugh seemed not to listen. His eyes were on something behind Robin.

Rosa approached and as Robin turned to see what had drawn his opponent's attention nearly slashed her clear with his sword. She stepped back at the last minute.

"Have I injured you?" he asked and then, abruptly, "Why are you here? Will?"

Will was rather reluctant to come forward just then, but he would have, only Rosa answered before Robin's anger had a chance to become full-blown.

"Forgive me for interrupting you," Rosa said although she did not seem the least bit sorry.

Sir Hugh continued to watch her, speechless, from the ground.

"My father told you I was dead, didn't he?" Rosa told him calmly.

He got up abruptly, as if only just remembering he had been prostrate on the ground all this time. Robin, puzzled, made as if to detain him, but quickly he saw that the man was no longer dangerous. White as a sheet, he seemed more likely to faint than to do anything else.

"You –you are alive?" he croaked through dry lips.

"As you see," Rosa replied.

"He said the outlaw had killed you," Sir Hugh went on, his eyes void, as if he was in a trance. "He said he did it to spite him. I came to avenge your death, to tell him you had died for him once already, hadn't that been enough?"

Robin started to ask a question, but Sir Hugh went on in a minute.

"I came to kill him," he said as though Robin wasn't standing right before him. "I knew he was good with the sword and the bow, better than most really, and I knew he had many men and I was only one, but I thought, surely I was angry enough to kill him in one swoop."

He sat down abruptly and closed his eyes and leaned back and Rosa thought he would collapse there and then, before Robin Hood and all his men. He seemed to pull himself together however, with a herculean effort, and lifted his eyes to hers once more.

The hatred was gone now.

His eyes were pleading, they were sad. They were bereft.

"You had already died for him once," he repeated.

"Is this acceptable?" Robin asked Rosa through gritted teeth nearly an hour later.

She nodded, trying to still her racing heart. She looked frantically around, looking for another opportunity to postpone the inevitable. Judging by Robin's impatient pacing, he wasn't likely to wait for much longer, nor was he ever going to forget Sir Hugh's declaration of her 'already having died' for Robin.

She had managed to buy some time by asking that they go back to the camp and calm themselves, dress their wounds and wash. Robin had no intention of letting the matter drop, but her pallor and the gathering darkness persuaded him after a while. Once they were back at the camp she insisted that they all try to eat something, but both Robin and Sir Hugh declined, staring icily at each other.

Now the night had enveloped them all like a velvet cloak and the men were waiting in silence for Sir Hugh's words. He hesitated. Rosa sent one last look full of anguish in his direction, but he pretended to ignore it.

"You promised," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He could hear her, however, and soon she knew that he had understood her.

"Forgive me, my lady, I do not wish to break my promise to you," he said and clamped his lips shut with determination.

Robin almost throttled him on the spot, but someone retained him.

"You'll never learn this way," Little John said.

"Then how _will_ I learn?" Robin cried desperately. "_She_ won't tell me, that's for sure."

He pointed at Rosa and it was the first time he had spoken to her in anger. She looked up, surprised.

"I will tell you, master, if you command me," she replied, evenly.

"I would never command you, you know that," he said, somewhat more calmly. "Just, please, someone tell me," he went on in a tormented tone. "I think I might go mad. Please, take pity on me, my lady."

He spoke these words softly, for her ears only, and his black eyes spoke more eloquently than his tongue. She couldn't stand it.

"You may tell what you want," she told Sir Hugh, resigned, and hoped for the best.

Her hopes would prove to be somewhat premature.

Sir Hugh's narration was rather more detailed than Rosa had expected. He described everything, from the throng of people gathered to watch the scene, to the blood that soaked Rosa's peasant dress. Robin's face paled. The men gasped. Little John leaned forward, all attention. Father Tuck grasped Will Scarlet's arm for support. Still Sir Hugh went on. Rosa wanted to run and hide behind the trees like a child, but she checked herself. What she found she couldn't endure however, was the look of pure torture on Robin's face when Sir Hugh described the Sheriff's dagger plunged into her heart. He then went on to say that, thankfully it hadn't been her heart exactly, although it had seemed so at the time, and that was the reason for her unlikely but real recovery.

Robin didn't seem to be able to listen to any more after that, lost in his own thoughts.

Sir Hugh was finally done, and the men began to whisper excitedly to one another, eyeing her with new-found respect. She noticed Robin get up on shaky feet and slip quietly away, but didn't have time to see where he went, for Will Scarlet was beside her in a moment.

"The day of the feast," he began abruptly and she noticed his eyes shone strangely in the light of the fire. "When I was in the Sheriff's dungeon, someone left a dagger next to me, a dagger that later would save my life. It was you."

She nodded, as there was nothing else to do.

"I thank you, mistress," he said simply and knelt at her feet.

"Don't- don't thank me," she said quickly, horrified by his gesture. "Please. I was happy to be of service to you."

Will merely smiled and brought her hand to his lips.

"You could have paid for that service with your life," he said and his handsome face winced at the thought.

"Still, that was what I chose to do," Rosa insisted. "No need to thank me for that."

"Indeed there is a need," Will said, refusing to release her fingers. "Even if you do not see it, I do. And," he went on, gently retaining her when she would have gotten up, "furthermore, I find I wish to thank you for my master's life."

"Do you think he…?" Rosa began to ask, but was interrupted by a resounding thunder that seemed to crash directly over their heads.

They ran for shelter with the rest of the men as the sudden rain began to pelt on them forcefully. Even though it was a short run to their makeshift shelter, and an even shorter wait until Little John could open its well-concealed entrance, they were almost drenched when they went inside. It was a bit crowded, but they lit fires and prepared to make merry while they waited the storm out.

They had been obliged to sleep in the earthen shelter before, and were not afraid of their confinement, however long, because for once they had something exciting to talk about, to wonder at and to exchange opinions on.

"Where is the master?" Rosa asked a man who was sitting next to her.

She was vigorously rubbing her arms to warm them and did not know exactly who it was she had posed this question to. As soon as she lifted her eyes, however, she almost jumped; for it was the only man in there she would have rather not ventured to talk to. It could not be helped now, of course, and it would be even worse to get up and leave. So she stayed, expecting his silence at best.

When he answered she was surprised, and even more so when she found out there was not a trace of hostility in his voice.

"I think he went to clear his head," Julian told her. "I saw him galloping away on his horse, a couple of minutes before the rain began to pour. He'll be back when he is drenched enough, I think," he added with a smirk.

Rosa didn't know quite what to say to that, so she remained silent.

Slowly the heat of the fires began to warm her, and someone passed her a pelt to wrap around herself. She would have liked to get up and away from Julian, maybe even say a few words to Sir Hugh, who sat sullenly in a corner, silent and pale. Indeed, she would have liked very well to have him know her opinion of his actions, but that seemed nearly impossible at the moment, for she would have to struggle to make her way through limbs and heads and laughing men's bodies closely packed together in the close space. Let alone that she would have to disturb almost everyone around her if she wanted to get up.

So she turned to Julian and asked him if he cared to share the pelt. He shook his head and said he was warm enough, but looked at her in a curious way, as if he was surprised. They sat in silence for a while, not knowing what to talk about, and then he drew something from a pocket concealed in his tunic.

It appeared to be an object dangling from a roughly-tied piece of cord, perhaps in an effort to create a makeshift pendant.

"Robin told me you heard the story –the story of my little sister, the other day," he said.

"I did," she replied, "I did overhear it. I am sorry, I hadn't meant to…"

"He said you cried," Julian interrupted her and his green eyes bore into hers with emotion.

"Yes," she said.

"Thank you," he answered simply.

She raised her eyebrows, thinking she had somehow misunderstood him and wondering whether he was mocking her again.

"Thank you for crying for her," he repeated. "Would you like to see her?"

"See her?"

"I have a miniature portrait of her, it was done when she was a child, before we set out on a journey that… that resulted in her death," he pursed his lips and she wondered if she had heard of this story before, because it seemed vaguely familiar to her. "We lived in extreme poverty, but there seemed to be a particular reason for this miniature to be drawn and to travel with us –two of them actually, an original and a copy- although I never exactly understood its importance. I was little more than a child myself then, you see."

Rosa listened attentively to his story, but he seemed to have forgotten her presence, to have been transported to a place in the past.

"Anyway, d' you want to see her?" he asked gruffly after a brief silence.

"I would be honored," Rosa answered carefully.

"This is the original," he said and his voice trembled with pride.

She opened the pendant delicately and gasped when she saw the picture inside. For the portrait of the little red-haired girl with the laughing emerald eyes, so like Julian's own, was the same as the one that hung in her own room at the castle for as long as she could remember.

She blinked, and looked again, concentrating on every detail, trying to find even one difference, trying to make herself wake from the dream. But there were no differences to discover, there was no dream to wake from. The portrait that hung in a wall in the castle and this one were so much alike as only an original and its copy could be. They were the same portrait. They were the same girl.

She gasped and immediately winced at the familiar throbbing at her side.

"Are you well?" Julian asked with genuine concern, and at that precise moment, she recognized him.

She recognized him from her memories, she recognized him from her past. It was he. And he was real; she hadn't only seen him in her dreams, the tall, lean boy with the golden hair and the strong arms. She hadn't simply conjured him up because of her loneliness and danger, he wasn't an imaginary prince who would one day come and rescue her from her unhappiness. He had been real all along, and he was here now before her.

She opened her lips to tell him, and the pendant slipped from her fingers.

With an oath he bent down to retrieve it.

Immediately his eyes hardened with distrust and coldness.

The illusion was gone. The boy from her dreams was nowhere to be seen.

_I was wrong after all_, she thought relieved, but somewhere deep down inside she was disappointed.

Her breathing calmed, the pain subsided.

"Forgive me for dropping it," she said. "She was… beautiful," she finished, for want of another word.

"Women!" he cried bitterly, instead of another answer, "what did I expect? 'Beautiful.' Is beauty all you can see? Can't you, for once, look deeper?"

He turned his back on her and faced the wooden wall, cradling the little wooden square in the palm of his hand like a little boy.

The illusion came again, and went, like a recurring dream from the night before.

It was all the same to her, however, because she couldn't have answered him just then. She had just realized that the fact remained, beyond certainty, beyond the haze of imagination or dream, the fact that the girl in the portrait was she.

More than an hour passed and Robin wasn't back yet.

The men had settled down to sleep. Even Sir Hugh, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the wine, and exhausted by his exertions of the previous days, had finally let his guard down and was fast asleep in his little corner. The men had tied him for safety and then promptly forgotten about him.

Rosa got up and slipped out into the cold rain, unnoticed by anyone.

She quickly saddled her horse and set out into the dark forest, through paths she knew so well she could find even blindfolded. Every so often, a bolt of lightning would lighten up the glistening trees and then she would raise her horse in its hind legs and glance quickly around for a glimpse of Robin or his huge black horse. She knew where she would find him, however, with almost certainty.

At the eastern edge of the forest there was a steep cliff, where the trees cleared for a few yards before the ground catapulted into the rocky abyss below. It was Robin's favorite place of refuge from sadness and anxiety and she had only heard of its whereabouts and never actually been there. Trying to follow the description someone had once given of the place, she reached it, dripping and chilled to the bone.

Sure enough, before she could recognize the actual place in the thick darkness of the forest, she saw Robin's black beast, neatly tied to a tree.

She dismounted and tied her own horse next to it.

As she approached the cliff she could just make out Robin's silhouette against the backdrop of the midnight-blue sky. The raindrops in his hair glistened and his arms hung clenched tightly at his side. He was standing exactly on the edge, and she feared to call to him. She stayed and watched him until he looked over his shoulder, sensing her gaze, and saw her.

He knew her at once and met her as she came to him with a brusque step.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, angrily, as she knew he would. "Go back immediately."

"I wanted to see if you are well, master," she answered, drawing back at his hostile tone.

"Perfectly well, thank you," Robin said, spitting raindrops that had nestled on his lips as he spoke. "Just clearing my head. Thinking about your departure tomorrow, planning our journey."

"My –what?"

"You are leaving tomorrow," he replied immediately, in a matter-of-fact tone. "You are going to stay with our good friend, the Duke of Aston. He has supported me and my men with gold and almost everything else that is in his power. I have also rendered him a service or two. You will live as the gentlewoman that you are there, and be taken care of. Don't worry," he added kindly, as an afterthought.

"I am not leaving," she said stubbornly.

"Oh, I am afraid you must," he said, without feeling. "The men are getting tired of you. And so am I."

It was spoken cruelly, and even though she knew it to be one more of his tricks, she found she couldn't stand it. She stepped away from him and, before she knew it, he foot was slipping off the edge.

She caught a glimpse of the gaping void beneath, and the next moment she felt herself slipping into it. It opened its black mouth to swallow her. She didn't care. She let herself fall.

She had closed her eyes and prepared her body for the pain of the deathly impact, when Robin grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to the ground. Before she had even time to stand properly on shaking feet, he was dragging her to him and away from the edge, with a force that nearly knocked her breath out.

"What are you doing?" he screamed. "Are you out of your mind?"

He kept screaming oaths and curses and crushed her to his chest. And then he was kissing her so hard it hurt. She tasted the rain on his lips, she tasted his desperation, his anger. His mouth traveled to her cheek, to her throat. He buried his head in her hair and his shoulders shook, as he was gasping for air.

She held him, threading her arms around his neck, holding on for dear life.

"I understand why you are upset," she said.

"Let me catch my breath a minute," he choked against her ear, but she couldn't stop once she had begun.

"And I am sorry I did not tell you," she went on, "especially when you laid the story before me yourself. But I didn't want to make you feel guilty, as you do now."

He turned his head away.

"Don't you see?" she said. "I would have died anyway. I couldn't imagine living in a world where you didn't exist."

He drew away at that and studied her face.

Then he dropped his hands away from her and she trembled with the cold.

"How am I to reconcile myself with what you did for me?" he quietly asked and it was as if he was directing his question to the dark sky. "How?"

"Is sending me away a solution?" she asked gently.

"It is, somehow," he answered. "For I cannot afford to have you put into any more danger, not after knowing what you have done, what you have been through. You deserve some respite after that, you deserve little red-headed children that are the picture of your beauty, you deserve a goose-feathered bed, fine dresses and jewels. You have done enough. I couldn't let you do any more."

"I chose to do what I did, master," Rosa said firmly, and not a little angrily. "No one, not even you, _let me_ do it. I came to this forest by myself and I alone decided to stay. Forgive me, but I do not see how it is your decision where I chose to give my life and my… love."

"I am master of this forest, Stuart," Robin said in a voice that shook slightly, "have you forgotten that?"

"I have not forgotten, master," she said. "It seems you have."

"What do you mean?"

"Where would the forest and its men be now if you had died then? You know…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

He stood with his back to her and did not turn, but made an angry gesture.

"So now you won't tell me what you think?" he muttered through clenched teeth.

"I will tell you," Rosa said with a sigh. "Only you won't like it."

"Try me."

"The first day I came to the forest dressed as Stuart, do you remember?"

A snort answered her.

"You might have forgotten," she mumbled. "Anyway, do you imagine what my greatest fear was, what was my only reason for hesitation?"

"Discovery."

"No, it wasn't. Not fear that my father would find out, nor that you would find out I was not a boy and feed me to the fire, like you were rumored to do to traitors."

At this he turned to face her.

"'Feed you to the fire'?" he raised an eyebrow.

"There were tales," she shrugged.

"Go on," he said, turning his back again.

"I didn't even fear that you would laugh at me, as you did, or that you would entirely doubt me, after all the trouble I had gone to."

"I have regretted…" he started saying in a strangled voice.

"My greatest fear was that you would remember the girl who had taken the dagger instead of you, and that you would find out _I_ was that girl, and that you would hate me for it. That was what made me nearly turn back when I started."

"I don't hate you," he said and buried his hand in his hair.

"Or then react in an extremely immature way, as you do now," Rosa amended.

"Don't you realize," he said and turned to face her at last, "my dear girl, don't you- Good God! You are completely drenched."

He stopped, shocked, as if he was taking in her appearance for the first time. She realized that she was shaking uncontrollably, and maybe he was too.

"Come, my mermaid," Robin said, taking her by the arm, "you will catch cold."

"What were you going to say?" she insisted through chattering teeth, "What don't I realize?"

He didn't answer, only lifted her swiftly on her horse, and went to untie his own.

She tried to settle on her slippery seat, the rain blinding her vision like tears, and found that her fingers were so chilled that she couldn't hold on to the rains.

She tried to stop the trembling, but her horse shuddered and she knew she was going to fall from her unsteady perch in a minute.

"Robin…" she said.

Immediately strong arms were lifting her from the saddle, and then she was cradled in Robin's arms.

"I had better take you out of this water," he spoke softly into her hair, "or you will bewitch me further with the rubies in your dripping locks and the diamond raindrops on your lips."

She felt a brush against the top of her head, as if he had placed a kiss there, and then he commanded his horse to move.

He left her outside her cabin, but knocked again the minute she was in.

"I though I had better built you a fire," he explained.

Her teeth were chattering so badly now that she couldn't answer him, so she merely nodded, shakily. He had the fire roaring in a minute, and then turned to see that she hadn't moved from her place in the corner, huddled and dripping in a growing pool of rainwater that had drained from her clothes.

"I'll leave you to get out of your wet clothes," he said but saw that she couldn't move. "Can… could I help?" he asked finally.

He knelt next to her and tried to pry her frozen fingers away from her saturated cloak. She wasn't trembling any more, and her lips were blue, her eyelids drifting closed.

"No," he commanded, "stay awake. Rosa, stay with me. I'll have you warm in a minute."

He got up and opened the door, shielding its entrance from the cold, blocking it with his body.

"John! Paul! I need you," he shouted in the direction of the shelter-hut where the men were sleeping a few steps away. In a minute her heard the trap door creak open and knew they had heard him. They came splashing in the rain.

They covered her in furs and Robin undressed her gently underneath them. He skin felt cold and clammy, but still his fingers burned every time they came in contact with its velvety texture. He glanced at her white face every now and then, and once caught her large eyes looking at him in wonder.

"You are safe, my brave mermaid," he whispered softly, placing his warm palm against her chilly forehead and brushing away a wet curl, "you can sleep in a minute."

She closed her eyes once, as if to say that she had heard him.

"I did not mean to distress you," Robin went on. "I see that's what I did, and I am deeply sorry."

She tried to smile, and although her lips were still too frozen to move, he understood she forgave him, and smiled back.

"Thank you," he said, finding that his eyes were wet –with more than raindrops. "And I did not yet thank you for saving my life, then. I think I seem rather ungrateful. I find-" he hesitated. "I find that I have dreamed of thanking that brave, precious girl who saved me at such price to her own self, for a very long time. And now that I have her before me, and she is very much alive, and a princess no less, I have no words to tell you…"

Her eyelids drooped.

"I am tiring you," he said quickly. "We will talk tomorrow."

Paul gave her a potion to drink, which quickly brought some color to her cheeks and Little John unearthed a pair of thick woolen undergarments that Robin dressed her in to keep her warm.

He went in to check on her a couple of times during the night, but she slept serenely. He checked her forehead his fears of a fever subsided once he was certain than it was cool. He too had changed into clean clothes, and his men did their best to leave him the largest space available in the shelter-hut, but sleep eluded him completely.

The next day, Sir Hugh was gone before Rosa was awake.

The world seemed new, washed out of its dust and sadness, and little pools remained hidden in the thick, shining grass.

"Watch out for snakes," Little John said.

Rosa was careful where she stepped, but found that she had more important matters on her mind. Julian passed her as she was walking to the camp and turned his face the other way. A million questions regarding her discovery plagued her mind, but she pushed them resolutely away. _I can't think about this now_, she told herself.

She felt she still had left her conversation with Robin unfinished, somehow, although she couldn't remember the events of last night with complete clarity. Their journey from the cliff was all in a daze.

When she went to talk to him, she found him hard and remote, as he had been at the cliff, and talking of her departure with a sullen –for once- Father Tuck.

"I find I am unable to keep my former promise to you, Rosa," he said and her name sounded harsh on his lips. "We find you no longer necessary here in the forest, the men and I, and we think that you could do more good with the Duke of-"

"Not this again," Rosa cried, exasperated, "master, we talked about this yesterday…"

"My mind is made up," he said and there was something in the way he spoke, a grim determination, a sadness, a stubbornness, that told her it was true this time, she was indeed leaving.

She felt the color leaving her cheeks and leaned against a nearby tree for support.

"I hope you didn't catch cold yesterday," Robin said and there was a trace in his voice of kindness, "because that would set back our journey by a few days. We are to leave the day after tomorrow. John will come with us, I will take no chances. Your vengeful friend may be out there waiting for you."

She heard the rest of his words in a daze. There was no point arguing with him now, he wouldn't listen to her. The rest of the day passed without her realizing it. She wanted to say goodbye to everyone, even to the large oak tree, she wanted to ask for one last lesson in archery, she wanted to do a million little last things. But she couldn't even speak. All she felt was numb.

The day was gone before she had time to blink once, it seemed. The night came and the men settled down to sleep on the damp grass.

Robin had the strange impulse to bang his head against a sharp rock, but he kept himself together by repeating again and again that this was the right thing to do.

When he woke the next day, the day of Rosa's departure, she was nowhere to be found. Her pallet hadn't been slept in, and nothing was taken except the bow Little John had made for her. No arrows missing, however, which was strange.

No horse was missing either, and Robin was confident that they would find her soon, since she had apparently left on foot.

They searched for a fortnight and found nothing, except for her bow, which lay at the foot of a tree near the northern fringe of the forest. After that, they kept on looking for her body, but a month passed and they had combed the forest from one end to another, a few times risking discovery from the Sheriff's men, and still had found nothing.

On the last day of the month, Robin knelt on the ground and wept.

He vowed then and there to search every little village and town, and not to stop until he found her. There was little hope –if any- that he would find her alive, but he would not let go of it.

And if she was indeed dead, he would avenge her.


	17. Chapter 17: The Castle

_**Author's note**: I would like to apologize to all of you for taking so long to write this chapter. I had a little trouble thinking about where this story was going next, weighing around a couple of ideas. As you know, Rosa has left the forest and that immediately and effectively separates her from Robin Hood. I did not know if you would follow this story as it drifts a bit away from our favorite hero, even for a little while. I trust, however, that you will chose to follow Rosa's adventures no matter where they take her and give your very valuable input about where you would like the story to go next. Now that the plot line is started, my mind is flowing with ideas, so I don't think the next chapter will be long in coming._

_Special thanks to the following reviewers (there were so many for chapter 16):_

_MichelleNicoleNatasha, Octopus123, Daniellexx, Allthingsgeeky, CeaseFireOne, AlwaysInLoveWithTheVillain, nic2mad, Hey Saturday and PureGrace 2011. _

_You guys are always overwhelming me and showering with good reviews, which I am sure this humble little story does not deserve. I began to write for myself, and now I am writing for you. _

_Also many thanks to anyone who read, favorited or alerted this story. I am exceedingly grateful._

_Now, let's see. Where were we?_

**Chapter 17**

**The Castle**

She was nearly spent when she finally made her way out of the forest. A kind woman, whose husband owned a tavern in the closest village happened to pass by and see her, lying there at the edge of the road, shivering with fever and trembling with exhaustion and hunger. Though she herself was a poor mother of six, the woman took pity on her and took her home, whereupon after nursing her for nearly a week, she let her work in the tavern as a serving maid, in exchange for board and food.

The crones' dirty hands and foul looks, however, soon became too much for Rosa to bear, and in two months' time, she decided she was well enough to try and put some more distance between herself and the northern border of Sherwood Forest.

"I feel for you, Maggie," the woman told Rosa, addressing her by the name Maggie, that she had given her upon waking up, "I feel for you as for my own daughter. I can't bear to see you go."

"Don't fret, mother," Rosa told her, "I'll manage. I've been too much of a burden to you already. I will beg of you one thing, however."

The woman opened her eyes wide and listened with interest. She was no fool, no matter how poor and uneducated she might be, and she had seen with a glance that this was no ordinary peasant girl whom some misfortune had chased from her home. She asked no questions, yet looked upon 'Maggie' with some amount of awe, as did both her sons, especially the two eldest ones.

"If you hear of Robin Hood passing through these parts, or if he happens to grace your doorstep with his presence," Rosa went on, "tell him you did a kindness to one of his men once for which you haven't been reimbursed in full. Say you never learned his true name, for he was in hiding, but that you saved his life. He'll give you your reward as I cannot."

With these words, Rosa left a speechless taverner's wife behind her and traveled on foot to the next village.

When the bow Little John had built for her had grown too heavy for her weary hands, back in the forest, she had hid it at her root of a tree, hoping Robin would find it and know she had reached this point alive and well. She, however, felt the need to further reassure him of her well-being, should he look for her beyond the borders of the forest, and that's what had prompted her to leave this message to the taverner's wife –that, and the gratitude she felt towards her. A little voice kept telling her that Robin was prepared to send her off anyway, so would probably spare little thought to her whereabouts when he had been red of her with so little trouble on his part. That little voice always sent a wrenching pain in her stomach, and she tried to ignore it. More than often, however, she could not.

She took her time and picked a large village run through by a river, where she felt she would be better hidden among the many who lived there. She asked for work at the large country manor, where they hired her as a scullery and kitchen maid, after a somewhat nerve-wracking cross-examination. It was well into early winter when she at last settled into the life of a servant and her health became somewhat stable.

It was near a huge feast that they were preparing in the manor for the entire village to participate in, when Rosa began to notice that she had attracted much more attention from the eldest son of the family. She tried to avoid and escape his leery smiles and evils schemes to pull her in the stables as best she could, but she began to think that her new-found stability would be short-lived after all.

It turned out that the feast was followed by the announcement of the boy's betrothal, which Rosa hoped meant a respite from his advances, and which resulted in his marriage to a sweet country girl a few days hence.

The day after the wedding, Rosa started from the kitchen with two empty buckets. She swung her hands this way and that as she walked to the well for, although she did not relish the thought of walking all the way back with two heavy buckets full of water across her neck, this was the first day in a long time that she felt free. No hands were waiting to grope her in every corner, no crude lips to be pressed against her lips in spite of her struggling, no dirty fingers to grope her bosom. Master James was now in a home of his own, with a woman who was his wife to grope to his heart's contend.

Rosa reached the well and laid down her buckets. She had just began to unwind the thick cord, when she became suddenly and painfully aware that her arms were full of bruises from his pinches and his powerful grip while she had been struggling to escape his embraces minutes before his wedding. The cord swung abruptly from her fingers and she gasped in pain as she gripped the edge of the well fighting against a sudden faintness brought on by the pain.

In an instant, she felt a gentle, strong hand on her back, supporting her, and the cord was being lifted from her limp hands. She turned around, surprised, and was met with a pair of blue eyes, looking into hers with kindness and concern. She took a step back. The stranger took his hands away, as though he was afraid he had taken too much of a liberty.

"Forgive me," he said, in a deep, gentle voice. He had a slender face and a strong jaw, and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. "I thought you were unwell."

"Thank you," Rosa replied regaining her composure.

She realized now why he had seemed slightly familiar at first. She had seen him before, at this exact spot, standing across from the well, atop his grey horse, his long hair caught in a ponytail and billowing in the strong winter wind. He didn't live in the village exactly, but was almost daily there on business. It was whispered that he was incandescently rich, and something of a recluse, even though up close he appeared young and not so quite as formidable as he appeared to be afar.

His icy, blue, intense look had somewhat unsettled Rosa before, as she had passed by him on her way to and from the well, his stare boring into her back as she filled her buckets with water. Now, however, looking into his eyes from mere five inches away, she was struck by their beauty. They appeared haunted by some secret grief and it seemed to her they shone with anger and bitterness.

She turned back to her task, wincing as her sore muscles sent a sharp pain at the abrupt movement, but he raised a slender hand to stop her.

"Please, allow me," he said as though he knew he was speaking to a lady and was afraid he might offend her.

His white fingers seemed only to be accustomed to writing poetry and playing the lyre, but he attached the first bucket to the cord and filled it with water to the top with exceptional ease, and then the second.

Then he picked them up in one fluid movement and simply stood there, watching her, waiting to be told in which direction he was to take them. Rosa couldn't believe her eyes. She moved to take the buckets from him, but he simply started walking away, in the wrong direction, and there was nothing she could do but point him in the other way and walk behind him in silence.

His horse waited patiently for him to come back in the middle of the cobblestone square, its tether thrown hastily on the ground when he had dismounted it.

They reached the manor and Rosa hurried ahead to stand before the door. She wasn't about to let him walk inside the court carrying her buckets. His brow furrowed as he halted before her, whether from annoyance or because that was how he generally looked, Rosa had no idea. Around them, a slow snow had begun to fall.

"Thank you, sir," Rosa said, wondering how long he was going to stand there. "You are most kind," she had added, before thinking, as she tried to do these days, that she should talk like a scullery maid and not as the daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham.

"Your name," he said abruptly.

"Mary, my lord," Rosa gave a name different than the one she was currently using, narrowing her eyes in annoyance at his rudeness.

"Mary," he repeated and nodded, as though he was somehow satisfied by her answer. "You should dress warmer," he added, "Mary."

The next minute, he was gone.

By midnight, the snow had already risen to two inches above the ground. Rosa was bid by her mistress to go out on an errand, and she bundled herself up as tightly as she could, and took a deep breath as she opened the kitchen door. Immediately the cold caught her breath, and she staggered for a minute. The next, she was grabbed from behind and dragged across the snow to the stables.

James threw her down on the foul-smelling hay, and placed his palm over her mouth and nose. In a minute, she went limp in his arms. He started to tare at her clothe. She was nearly naked in the cold when she came to. He had released her lips and was in the corner taking off his breeches. She acted without thinking.

It took all her strength to drag silently a wooden beam across the floor. He turned at the last minute and saw her, but by then she was close enough to lift it to his head. He fell with a thump and she just stood there as the moments ticked by, immobilized by shock.

Then he started to stir.

She gathered her clothes with trembling hands and dashed out the door, in the face of the blizzard.

Dressed in tatters as she was and shaking from the shock, it was no wonder she hadn't walked far when she fell in the cold snow. She forced herself to get up and crawl for a few more steps, although she had no idea where she was going, so thick was the snow all around her. Hopefully, that would prevent her pursuer from finding her as well, although the fear kept pushing her on.

She didn't know how much later it was when she finally gave up.

She lay back on the snow and thought of Robin, thinking that this was a good way to die. The cold had frozen her aching body and her hurting mind. All that remained was he.

She closed her eyes and felt truly peaceful for the first time since she had left the forest. In her mind it was a warm summer's day and Robin was holding her by the waist, teaching her how to use the bow. She tried to move her lips, to call his name one last time, but they were so heavy to lift, and she gave up. It would have been nice, she thought, to go to sleep with his name on her lips, but anyway it didn't matter. It was always in her heart.

The snow kept falling on her, covering her like a blanket and she finally felt warm.

She woke up to sunlight and voices. She was in a room with a wide window, lying on a luxurious bed. Her mind, tired from the fever, couldn't process the information well enough to reach a conclusion about her whereabouts, and it was days of drifting in and out of consciousness before she found out what had happened from the two women servants who rushed in and out of her room to feed and tend to her.

She had been seen by two of the guards of the great castle and they, unsure of what to do had called on their master, the lord of the property, who had rode out in the snow to see the half-buried woman they had discovered. He himself had dismounted and brushed the snow away, so it was rumoured around the castle, he who most days did not even venture out of his rooms.

He decided to take her in and the guards had carried her to the castle and the kitchen maids given orders to nurse her and, when it seemed she would not wake, even a physician called on from the village.

Then the servants looked severely down at her and told her that it was already five days she had been abed and that soon enough, now that she was well, she would have to take herself elsewhere.

But Rosa knew her chances of survival would be very slim if she ventured out in this weather. The form of the lord of the castle, which loomed tall and frightening in the stories his servants spun about him, did not frighten her, although she hadn't even seen him yet.

His name, she learned, was Sir Gavin de Holacombe, and his descent Norman. She had not heard of him before.

So the next day, she got up on shaky feet and picked up her dress, which one of the younger maids had taken pity on and washed and mended. She dressed and went down the stairs that begun at the end of a narrow hall outside her room.

She had to climb down five flights of stairs before she could reach the kitchens. Even she who had lived her entire life in the castle of Nottingham, even she couldn't fathom the size of this small village built in this huge castle. By the time she reached her destination, she had to sit down for a minute on the cold stone to catch her breath.

Then she went into the kitchen, which was a large room buzzing with activity, holding her head high.

None of the servants there seemed especially happy to see her, but she insisted she wouldn't leave until she was given some work to do, and then one of the maids, the same who had washed her dress, actually, took pity on her and took her hand and told her she was welcome to help her peel onions.

So for the next few hours she peeled onions and fetched water and skinned a goose, because a large feast was approaching and the master had invited a multitude of guests, as he always did this time of year.

Rosa felt a small trepidation when she heard talk of feasts and guests, since she feared that people who had seen her in her father's homestead and might know her could be invited, or worse, her father himself. Or even Sir Hugh. If she played her cards right, however, she would be buried in the kitchens, or even gone, by the time everyone arrived.

By the time they started preparing the late afternoon meal for the lord of the castle, Rosa was beginning to feel faint. Her legs could barely support her, and her head was beginning to feel fuzzy, still weak from the fever and the lack of nutrition. She pressed on, preferring to die rather than let anyone notice her weakness, and prayed that her strength would hold up until the master of the house was served and she could climb back upstairs and collapse on her bed.

It occurred to her then, that this was the way the rooms of every castle were designated, the higher the room was in the castle, the more important the guest. So, she was really puzzled by the fact that she was taken to a room at the top floor of the castle.

She kept to her work, however, trying not to think of the danger of recognition.

Then, upstairs, right above their head, shouts erupted.

A deep, booming voice was shouting and cursing and coming nearer and nearer.

Rosa looked aroung. Not one of the women stirred.

The maid who worked beside her shrugged.

"The master has a temper," she said simply. "He frequently shouts and throws things about. You get used to it."

Rosa smiled, because the man really sounded more like a small boy throwing a tantrum whenever he felt like it.

"He has known great sorrow and disappointment," the maid continued rather sharply, as though she had heard Rosa's thoughts. "He is not a man to be thought of lightly," she added darkly.

Rosa wondered what that meant. And then, suddenly, she knew she was going to find out sooner rather than later, since the shouts kept coming closer and it seemed the master of the castle was headed for the kitchen.

And then everyone's face was transformed by fear, as the servants and maids and cooks rushed from one place to the other, trying to look busy and as though they were working each at their posts, straightening their aprons, tying their caps around their loosened hair. Rosa sighed. It seemed like her bed was drifting further and further away.

Then the man himself boomed in, a flurry of manservants following close at his heels, sweating with excuses. He did not listen to any one of them. He just kept shouting. And then he stopped short.

He had just entered the area of the kitchens, and for a moment Rosa thought it was the fact that the various smells and mouth-watering vapors accosted him all of a sudden, that made him pause. But it turned out it was not that.

His blue, steely eyes were fixed on a very specific spot in the room and immediately his lips clamped shut in an expression of disgust and pain, all in one.

That specific spot was her.

And then she recognized him. It was the tall, lean, sour gentleman who had lifted her buckets and carried them filled to the brim with water, that fateful day she had run away. It was that same man who had stood at the well, his long hair now wafting loose out of his ponytail, and his light-colored eyes sending sparks in every direction.

"There you are," he breathed, after a minute of breath-holding silence, and he seemed to try to calm himself as he spoke. "Mary," he continued, "Mary is the name you go by, I think. Come here."

His tone was commanding and Rosa stamped down an urge within her to spit back a scathing answer. She wasn't Rosa now, however, she was Mary, the destitute, found-nearly-dead-in-a-ditch beggar, and she couldn't afford to disobey him.

She went and stood before him, holding her head down, as she had practiced to do all these months she had worked as a scullery-maid.

Without any other word, the man grabbed her arm so roughly it hurt, and marched her out. He practically dragged her up the stairs in a spacious room with a roaring fire and animal pelts strewn about to give the illusion of warmth. It was, however, freezing.

Rosa was too angry to give a thought to her aching head. She stood in the middle of the room as soon as he released her, shivering in the cold and refusing to come near the fire.

The man stood and studied her, seething in anger as well, at what she knew not, and the moments passed.

He was the one to give in first and speak.

"Come closer to the fire," he ordered sternly, "you are cold."

She did not move, although she clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking from the cold.

He laughed, a mirthless laugh, full of sarcasm. He was laughing at her.

"You are clearly freezing, why won't you move?"

"I will not be ordered about," she murmured to herself not intending for him to hear, but he did, nonetheless.

"You say so," he answered, moving closer until he was standing right in front of her and she would have to raise her head if she wanted to look him in the eye, but she didn't, so she kept her head bent. "You say so, and yet, you go about doing things in _my_ castle," he intoned the word 'my' slightly, "as though you were one of my servants. The ones whom _I_ happen to 'order about'."

Then, infuriatingly, he placed a slender hand underneath her chin and tipped up her face so that her eyes met his straight-on. She was surprised at the pain she saw there, and inhaled sharply in surprise.

He let go of her and turned his back, his expression one of disgust.

"Do not pretend you know how to bend your head submissively," he said, "it does not become you. And besides, you have not the slightest idea how to go about pretending you are a servant."

_He cannot know_, she thought in panic.

He turned abruptly, as though to catch her expression unguarded and what he saw made him move swiftly to her side and take her arm. This time she didn't resist as he led her to a large chair and put a cloak about her shoulders. Her head swam and she had felt the blood draining from her body in than one moment. Immediately, as she sat, she felt the warmth of the fire spread to her limbs, and with it, her self-control.

The man – Sir Gavin- knelt next to her and examined her face.

"You have naught to fear from me, my lady," he whispered, but then he stood again, the usual expression of anger and sarcasm on his face and his voice was hard when he spoke again, and she thought she had imagined his previous words.

"Your name, first," he said, "if you please, and I warn you, I may not forgive a lie a second time."

"What mean you, my lord?" she simpered innocently. "Your lordship knows my name."

To her surprise, he laughed. It sounded much more genuine than before, too.

"You can no more pretend that you are a servant, than I can pretend to be happy," he said. Then, more kindly, "tell me please. I mean you no harm. I simply have an immense dislike for concealed truth. Besides, your secret is already out."

"What secret, my lord?" she asked, dropping the pretense. Suddenly, she felt bone-weary.

"Do you think that it was by mere chance that you saw me every single day at that well? Do you think I get out every day, and go to the village square, and stand beside the well staring at the fat women who come to fill their jugs with…"

"You are right, it does seem quite far-fatched," Rosa interrupted quietly.

"Of course I am right. Now, your name."

"My name is Rosa Fitzwater, and I am the…"

"The daughter of the Sheriff of Nottingham, yes, I know. The lost one. The traitor one. Or the dead one, I should say."

Rosa flinched.

"You knew all along?"

"Of course."

She briefly considered jumping up and running, but one look in his face told her he already anticipated her every move.

"That would be a really bad idea, my dear," he said, as though to emphasize his point.

"How did you recognize me?"

"My friend, Hugh DeHavenger-"

"Aaaargh!"

An exclamation of frustration erupted from her lips.

"Yes, quite," he said coolly. "He had pointed you out to me on several occasions, asking for my opinion and advice on the matter of wooing you."

"I wish you had given him some sound advice," she muttered.

"Oh, I did, actually. I told him there were a million more deserving girls in England than that thin, wild-looking child," he said drily.

"Thank you," Rosa replied.

"Well, there goes that," he said.

"There goes what?"

"My effort to offend you, lady Rosa."

_Lady Rosa._

Suddenly their light-hearted banter was at an end. Rosa knew what was coming next. He would bind her, or not. He would knock her out unconscious, or maybe he would feel sorry for her and treat her with some respect, although she doubted it. But whatever happened, she was sure he would lead her to her father. And he to the dungeons. And there, she could not bear to go again.

She got up from her chair with deceptive calm.

Her eye had caught something on the wall. A large, decorative sword was hanging by two leather hinges. With a swift move, and before Sir Gavin had had any time to react, she was standing next to the sword and getting it out of its leather straps.

She swung it out at him.

Immediately when he saw what she was doing, he was running to her. But now, the sword stood between them and he was stopped short at the other end of its sharp edge.

He looked at her and for the first time she saw some emotion in his cold eyes. Fear. Not fear for himself, but fear for her. Fear that she had gone mad, and that he would have no idea how to handle her.

"I have not gone mad yet," she said. "But I will if you send me to him. So take it."

She turned the sword towards him, handle first, and her arm was trembling from its great weight.

"Take it," she repeated. "And use it on me now, if there is any mercy in your heart, kill me and send me to him dead."

He took it abruptly and flung it from him with a loud clang at the other side of the room. Then he saw she had spent herself with the effort, and took a hold of her arms to support her.

She collapsed against him and he knelt with her, holding her, he himself trembling harder than she, trembling from a sudden emotion than overcame him.

"I won't go back to the dungeon," she whispered, all the pretense of strength leaving her abruptly. "I won't go back there, you can't make me." She lifted her eyes to his, and he feared that his heart would stop. "Please," she added and then her head drooped against his shoulder.

When she woke, deep into the night, there was girl, not older than twelve years, on a pallet next to her bed, who informed her with a wide smile, that she would be her own personal maid, if you please my lady, the lord sir said if you will have me, I am to be in your service.

The next morning she found out that Sir Gaving had left on business and would return on previous day of the feast. In the meantime, everyone in the castle had received orders concerning her.

The "lady Mary" –so he has not yet shared my secret with everyone, thought Rosa- was not to be allowed to work in the kitchens, although she was welcome to roam the winter gardens, and all the grounds, and to have any selection of the horses she wanted. She was not allowed to leave the castle for any reason whatsoever.

Soon enough, and to her dismay, Rosa realized that Sir Gavin's servants were loyal to him and obedient to a fault. She couldn't work and she couldn't leave. That was that.

Sir Gavin had gone to visit his lady mother, or at least that was the pretext. The real purpose of his journey was to clear his head.

What to do with the lady, that was the question.

He turned it over in his head, unable to sleep at nights, and yet the days passed and he had no clear idea formed in his head.

He decided to return one day earlier than he had planned. He left his mother's company and he went to the stables. He mounted his horse, his brow furrowed in thought. His retinue ready and waiting for him, he began the short journey home.

A cold sleet had begun to fall a few minutes after he had set forth and he was wet and tired by the time the buttreses of his castle came into view. Then immediately, he reigned in his horse.

Instinctively he knew something was wrong.

It was the flag.

On the second buttress to the right, one small blue flag with the colors of his crest, was slightly askew. His gaze immediately flew to that particular flag, especially when he had been away for sometime, because that was the signal between him and the head of his trusted guard. If there was any danger, he would knock that flag down, and Sir Gavin would run the last few miles to his home.

The flag wasn't down, of course, not completely. It was simply not straight, like the other ones.

A cold shiver went down his spine.

It looked like someone had tampered with it.

Like someone had tried to knock it down, to send the signal of danger, but had been prevented at the last minute. Stopped short. Struck down.

Sir Gavin rode like the wind.

Then, before the large gate came into view, he dismounted and told his followers to hide.

He approached the gate from the side.

Guards stood watch, as usual. Only, as he approached he reaslized that they weren't his guards. They only wore their clothes.

Then he heard a scream.

Bloodcurdling, almost inhuman with pain.

Then another, and another.

He didn't know how he knew this, but he did. It was her.

He turned back and met his men.

After a few moments of deliberation, he knew he had no choice in the matter. There was only one man who could help him, and although he himself had not heard only good things about the outlaw, right now he needed help. Immediately.

He mounted his horse again, praying that he could find the wild thieves and persuade them to help him before it was too late. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he had a fair idea who the men were who had replaced his guards.

They were Nottingham's men.

Which meant the Sheriff now thought he himself was into the shceme with his daughter. And which, in turn meant, that neither he nor the lady Rosa had much time for negotiations.

Judging from that scream, she might already be dead.

But no. the Sheriff wouldn't kill her. Not until he had what he wanted.

He turned his horse towards Sherwood Forest.


	18. Chapter 18: Rescue

_**Author's note: **Heartfelt thanks, first and foremost, to my incredible reviewers:_

_VeryaTirananniel__, thank you for your excited review, which was the first for my new chapter, and I must tell you, exceptionally encouraging._

_Anne8, your reviews brought tears to my eyes. I don't get that kind of encouragement very often, let me tell you. And also, thank you for believing me. I needed that._

_MichelleNicoleNatasha, your reviews make me so happy, always. Thank you so so so much._

_Cassaroha I loved the excitement in your review, it prodded me to want to give you more of the story. I hope this is somewhat satisfactory. Please let me know if it is._

_Aroha, your review was what pushed me finally to finish this –rather large- chapter , and to do so with all possible haste. Thank you very much for your kind words, they are much appreciated. _

_Thank you to everyone who has warmed my heart by favoriting, alerting and subscribing to this story. You have no idea what it means to me. _

_Here are some more of Rosa's adventures:_

**Chapter 18**

**Rescue**

"I am in need of your help," sir Gavin gasped to the huge man standing before him.

The giant regarded him coolly.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," he said drily. "Everybody is in need of our help."

Sir Gavin sighed heaving, acutely aware of the dimming daylight around him. He had lost too much time already. Too much precious time. Maybe she was dead already anyway. _No, I won't think like that, I can't_.

"You are the outlaw Robin Hood, aren't you?" he asked.

"I am Little John," the man replied, "who stands in for Robin."

_What does that mean?_ Sir Gavin wanted to ask, but there was no time to be lost in questions. He had heard that you had only to wander into the Sherwood Forest with a fat purse at your side, and immediately you would be discovered by the outlaw and his men. However, that had not been the case today. He and his men, although obviously wealthy and well-dressed, had been left alone for the better part of the day, and when finally two filthy-looking men had demanded their money on behalf of Robin Hood, he had had a really hard time persuading them to take him to the outlaw. Why, he almost had to bind his own hands to make them trust that he meant no harm. All this, after he had willingly placed in their surprised hands all the moneys that he carried with him.

The camp looked to him empty and neglected, but it was none of his business how these rough, unhappy men lived, although he was beginning why these sour-faced fellows were called "the Merry Men", so he didn't bother with the question.

"Please, may I see the outlaw Robin Hood?" he said now, with pretend politeness, barely containing his impatience.

The tall man, called John, sat on the ground suddenly, as though exhausted.

"Robin doesn't… He isn't here," he said tiredly. "You can tell me what it is you want. And quick, mind you. I haven't got all day."

It was beginning to look like a seriously bad waste of time to have come down here, Sir Gavin thought. He placed a finger at his throbbing temple and massaged softly. It seemed like his only option right then, but now he clearly saw that these outlaws' fame had been grossly exaggerated. Except for disorganized, grumpy and leaderless, these men looked positively malnourished.

"There is a lady in grave danger as we speak," he began, but as soon as these words were out of his mouth, Little John lifted his hand to stop him, already looking bored out of his mind.

"Look after your soft-skinned, fanciful ladies yourself, my lord," he said sarcastically. "We are here for the poor. For the ones who have no one to defend them but a bunch of worthless criminals."

"You don't understand, you don't even know who she is yet…"

He was beginning to wonder if the rumors about Rosa's living in the forest had any truth in them at all –after all she hadn't exactly confirmed it herself the other day- but he had to ask. He was rudely interrupted once more.

"My men will escort you into the forest," Little John said, and got up to leave. "And be warned, you stepped willingly into our camp, so you are fair game to them. Whatever they choose to do with you before they send you back to the vile Sheriff, or whoever sent you here with hopes of besting the famous Robin Hood."

It was no use.

The man was clearly not interested in listening to him.

"Wait!" he shouted desperately, trying to quench the hint of hysteria he heard in his own voice.

The giant stopped and turned to look at him with disgust.

"I hear that there is a holy man living here with you," Sir Gavin said, feeling a bit foolish. "Surely you won't deny me a prayer."

"Go to your own parish, I am sure that we do not have the required display of opulence here to suit your tastes."

"John, you are getting bitter," a short man that Sir Gavin hadn't even noticed, admonished quietly. "I am Father Tuck," the man said simply to Sir Gavin. "Whom would you like me to say a prayer for?"

At this point Sir Gavin was thinking already of where he could appeal to next, but seeing as it was the Sheriff himself who had attacked his property, he wasn't sure he had any other option left.

"Lady Rosa Fitzwater," he said, and his voice came out as a discouraged whisper.

Everything around him seemed to freeze at once.

The tall man, along with the priest held their breath. Then,

"Robin!" the giant shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I heard," a rough voice said behind him.

He would never had imagined this unkempt man to be the prince of outlaws, the man said to be England's best hope of regaining the rightful king. He was dirty and hollow-cheeked, as though recovering from a great illness.

However, he had organized his men as well as Sir Gavin's within minutes and taken the whole situation so skillfully in hand, that Sir Gavin had prepared reluctantly to trust him.

Now, as they approached the castle in the night, he rode beside him tight-lipped and white-faced, and Sir Gavin was suddenly sure that the rumors about Lady Rosa living in the forest were absolutely true.

"What did you say you heard as you were standing right outside your castle?" Robin asked him tensely for the hundredth time.

"Best not to dwell on that," Sir Gavin replied calmly, as to a child.

"How did you know her, at first?" Robin pressed on. "I thought she might be in hiding."

"She was. Disguised as a kitchen-maid, I found her. Then she met some trouble at the household she was working at, from what I understand, and ended up half-frozen on my doorstep."

The outlaw inhaled briefly and his horse faltered.

Sir Gavin stole a sideways glance at him. The man looked ready to be sick.

"I thank you," Robin said surprisingly as soon as he had caught his breath.

"I did not do it for you," Sir Gavin answered abruptly. "Anyway, I recognized her because my friend, Sir Hugh…"

"Oh yes, I forgot, you said so already. And I guess it was you who had the fine and brilliant idea to tell him to alert the Sheriff to her presence."

At this, Sir Gavin had no ready answer. He had, indeed, foolishly told his friend of his discovery, for he was in such low spirits, that he had felt sorry for him. Besides, at the time, they were both away from home, so he thought there was no danger of Sir Hugh's telling the Sheriff. Apparently, he had been terribly wrong.

"She was…" Robin hesitated. "She was well?" he choked out the last word.

"If by 'well' you mean feverish for days and emaciated and in mortal terror of her father finding her, then yes, I think she was extremely well, to put it that way. She was, in fact, so well, that after I found her…"

"Enough!" Robin growled.

In a minute, he added, more calmly, "I will thank you to tell me more details later. I find I cannot stomach the pain of it just now. Let us rather focus at the task at hand."

"By the looks of you, you do not seem to have been able to stomach any food either for some time now," Sir Gavin observed drily.

"Not since she left, some four months ago," Robin replied in the same tone.

The Sheriff himself was not there, after all. There were, however, nearly a hundred of his men and having overpowered the guards of the castle and the entire servant staff, were now busy watching and jeering as Rosa was being held for torturing and questions.

Robin and his men got in easily and noiselessly, after having disposed of the men who were placed at the entrances of the castle's outer and inner gates. Then they climbed the stairs, Robin leading the way as he took them five at a time with his long legs, and threw an absent-minded punch here and there, when a soldier appeared who would have stopped him.

He approached the scene before anyone else did.

He was standing briefly at the hall, before going in, right outside the common area, where most of the men were celebrating their easy victory by raiding Sir Gavin's collection of spirits, when he heard a loud, booming voice.

"We will stay here, my lady," the voice sneered, "for however long it takes for your memory to be refreshed. The good baron's kitchens are full to capacity with food, and my men will not lack entertainment, as long as you are in our midst. So, now, tell me if you please, where I can find the outlaw called Robin of the Hood…"

A harsh sound, like that of leather hitting human flesh broke the laughter of the men.

Then, a scream.

That was all. Then Robin erupted.

After that, everything was a blur in his mind.

All he knew was that he simply took out any man that found himself in the way, between himself and the figure hung from a rope on the ceiling, upside down, dripping with blood, long copper hair reaching down and sweeping the floor. The rest he left to the men who he knew were coming behind him.

He slashed with his sword and thrust his knife, and knocked with his fists, not really knowing what he was doing, only that Rosa was hanging from the ceiling and was bleeding and awfully still, and away, still so far away from where he was.

Finally he reached her.

He grabbed her by the waist, before reaching up to cut the rope around her ankles gently, but effectively, and caught her in one lithe movement as her body fell, before she could hit the floor.

He crouched on the dirty floor and cradled her in his arms, wiping the trail of blood that was running down her lower lip, completely oblivious to a sword coming for his neck from behind.

"Robin!" one of his men shouted in warning, but before he could turn, the guard fell with an arrow in his heart. Robin nodded to the man who had sent the arrow –he saw it was Julian- and turned to Rosa.

It was not long before she woke, right as the clamor of the battle around them was beginning to subside, for she was not seriously wounded, although weak from blood loss and pain.

She opened large eyes that met his and made his breath catch in his throat.

"No," was the first thing she told him, and then she closed her eyes against the pain and leaned back. He moved his arm to cushion her head and brushed his fingers against the bruises on her cheeks.

"No, what?" he whispered, his heart breaking within him.

"No, I do not want to leave you or the forest."

For a minute he panicked, for he thought her mind was wandering, but then she added:

"That's what I should have said, instead of running away from you like this, thinking you didn't want me. Although maybe truly you didn't want me anymore, now that I think on some of your words of that night. Maybe you'd tired of me. I am sorry."

"You –_you_ are sorry?" Robin sputtered, incredulous.

She tried to raise herself to take a better look at his face, but she winced at the pain.

"Have you been ill?" she asked him abruptly, gazing anxiously into his dark-rimmed eyes, "I don't remember your cheekbones being quite so prominent in your face before", she added, and then she fainted again.

"She lives?" a voice asked, panting, right above Robin's shoulder.

It was Sir Gavin, dishievelled from the fight, and leaning down to look at Rosa.

"You are bleeding at the arm," Robin told him.

"So are you," he replied, sheathing his dirty sword. "And at the leg too, for that matter."

"She lives," Robin said softly. "She is bleeding however, so, if it is safe, we'd better get her out of here, tend to her wounds."

"I don't think…" Sir Gavin frowned.

"Yes?"

"Do you think we could manage to conceal all this massacre from the Sheriff?" Sir Gavin inclined his head to the prone form of Rosa. "I don't think it would be right for her health to move her just yet to another of my houses. But if he should take it to his head to attack again…?"

"We all know he is one to nurse his failures for at least two months at a time, like an indulged child," Robin said as he got up with Rosa in his arms. "I will stay, however," he added.

"That may not be necessary…"

"I beg of you to let me stay," he insisted.

"The great Robin Hood begging me?" Sir Gavin raised a delicate eyebrow in mockery. "What an honor."

"I am not great. Not anymore. Nor was I ever. What was great in my life lies wounded in my arms, lost to me forever."

Sir Gavin's brow furrowed.

"You just said, man, that she was in no great danger," he hissed at Robin.

"Oh, she will get well, I think," Robin replied, "if she is cared for properly. She is stronger than she looks. But I bet she won't want to lay eyes on me again ever."

"You underestimate her, my friend," Sir Gavin said quietly.

"And speaking of friends," Robin said as he began to climb the stairs, trying not to jostle Rosa very much, "see if you can get that miserable friend of yours to work in our favor for once. He might be willing to lie to the Sheriff for her sake, if not for his own. Excepting of course that he did all this out of malice instead of stupidity, as I suppose."

Sir Gavin nodded gravely and shouted for one of the frightened servants to show Robin the way to one of the upstairs bedrooms.

Robin sent his men back as soon as they were rested, and he settled himself down to stay at Rosa's side as she slept.

He needed to think.

All this time he had spent looking for Rosa and mourning her loss, he hadn't yet come to a clear understanding of his own behavior, or of his motives for pushing her away.

A memory came to him as he was sitting beside her at the early hours of the second night. During the day Rosa had woken briefly, but she had said little, only looking around with wild, frightened eyes, the shock of what had happened finally catching up with her.

Robin watched helpless, able to do nothing more than try to reassure her that she was safe and that all was well. Then, thankfully, she drifted off to a fitful sleep again, right before the painful process began of spreading salve to the ugly scars the whip had left on her back and arms.

Now it was only him and the moonlight.

And memories.

This one was from the early days Rosa had spent in the camp, right after Julian had joined them. The rainy season had been upon them, he remembered, and Robin had been experimenting with building a small wooden cabin tangled within the sturdier branches of the central oak tree, so that Rosa could sleep up there when it rained, instead of the muddy floor of her small cabin on the ground. It would also afford her privacy, and him a better way of keeping an eye on her at all times.

Besides, he had seen the ease with which she climbed on and off trees, and it appeared to him completely effortless on her part, so he thought it wouldn't inconvenience her to sleep high on a tree, nor would she consider the idea an insult, like some high-stepping lady might.

So he built it, and showed it to her, and she adored it, although it was barely more than a cave inside the wide trunk of the tree, and began spending nights in it even when it didn't rain, and thanked him so profusely for 'his kindness to her' that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

All until that night.

Robin shut his eyes at the pain of this memory that was washing all over him again.

_How could I not have known?_ he thought for a millionth time. _And yet, how could I _have_ known? This is not a thing a man thinks of naturally. Or is it? If I had grown up regularly, with a mother and sisters, and women servants around me, could I have seen the signs more easily? Could I have spared her?_ Still he could not answer these questions, but they tortured him.

He recognized it now as the first time he felt seriously inadequate in sight of the responsibility of taking care of a woman in the forest. Afterwards, of course, the only thing that he consciously knew was that he was hopeless and helpless. And stupid.

_Oh, God, how stupid_.

Not to see what was in front of his eyes.

That particular night, it was raining heavily, and they were gathered inside. The place was packed, but they still managed to make merry, and suddenly his eyes caught Rosa, sitting alone in a corner, nodding off to sleep, although it wasn't yet so late in the night.

He was attempting to stay away from her at the time, but he felt it would be safe to go near her now, since she was asleep and oblivious to her surroundings. This way at least the gnawing need to be near her would be quenched for a few precious moments.

He got up and sat beside her, watching her as she slept.

The light made her look particularly pale tonight, and all day it seemed to him she had moved without a spring to her step, as though every movement was a bit painful, and for the first time she had refused to cover her hair and follow him into the forest.

_That's it, right there. That's how I should have known. _

But he didn't. So he watched the shadows her eyelashes made against her cheeks, and before he knew it, he was reaching out a finger to caress her soft cheek. Immediately she jerked awake, blinking disoriented eyes towards the fire.

For the first time, Robin was concerned.

"Hey," he said, and as she turned to look at him, he studied her face anxiously.

Her cheeks looked flushed as though with fever, and there were large dark shadows under her eyes. Suddenly he thought of her decision to stay at the camp this morning, as well as her suddenly falling asleep, which wasn't something she ever did, with sudden alarm.

"Are you not well?" he asked tightly.

She smiled, but it was a wan smile, and did nothing to calm his fears.

"I am perfectly well, thank you," she replied. "A bit tired simply."

"Of course."

That had made sense to him. He breathed a bit more easily.

"You should go to sleep immediately," he said. "Come, I want to watch you climb those branches safely, before I can have any peace of mind. The steps are made slippery by the rain."

He helped her to her feet, and when they got out they found that the rain had thinned to a drizzle. Everything around them was drenched, and their feet sunk in the mud, but at least they themselves were dry.

He led her to the oak tree, but halfway there she stopped him.

"I think today I will be sleeping in my old cabin," she said.

"What? No, I will not have it," he replied. "I won't have you lay down on the mud to sleep. Come on, we are almost there."

She looked at him as though she wanted to argue further, but then she seemed to think it was futile –and indeed it would have been, for he would have insisted- and walked silently to the rope ladder, hanging from the lower branches of the oak tree to the ground.

She placed a hand on the rope, and hesitated.

_My God_, Robin thought now, as he remembered. _I wish I could go back in time and strangle myself._

"Goodnight, my d-, Rosa," he whispered to her, reaching to take her hand in his, but at the last minute he drew back. He knew he couldn't trust himself to only touch her fingers. "Sweet dreams," he rasped, his breath suddenly coming short.

She turned to the ladder, but did not make a move to climb.

He waited, watching a bat take flight from a nearby treetop.

"Master," a small voice said.

"Rosa?" he turned to her with sudden alarm, for he had heard something in her voice that frightened him.

"I… I am afraid I am going to need assistance," she whispered, as though worried the night would hear her and mock her.

At first, he looked at her, puzzled, not understanding what she meant. Then he took in the ladder, and her hesitation to climb it, and understood.

Fear gripped him again. She had never needed any help before, climbing on and off trees, with no thought to danger. He wanted to press her again, to make her tell him what the matter was, but he could see it embarrassed her to ask for assistance, and he simply nodded and offered his hand.

"I am right here," he said as calmly as he could. "Here, give me your hand, I'll help you up." She still hesitated. "And then I'll climb right behind you, and I'll be here all the way," he continued.

She leaned on him, rather heavily, in order to reach the first step, and he felt her slender form trembling, so he tightened his hands around her waist. In a minute they began their slow ascent, and he was satisfied she was steady enough to let her on her own. He watched her every step from behind with the eyes of an eagle, ready to catch her if she fell, but until the tenth or so step she seemed to be fine on her own and she climbed well, if a bit slowly. They climbed some more, and were almost to the top. Then, suddenly, she stopped.

She turned back to look at him and her face was whiter than a ghost's. Before he could even speak, she fell.

He managed to catch her hand and then her waist as she drooped downwards, and he dragged her towards him, trying not to let go of the rope at the same time. The ladder swayed dangerously, and for a moment he thought he would lose his footing and drop her. _No!_ he commanded himself, fiercely, and grabbed on to a branch to steady himself.

He gripped her more firmly, and the ladder beneath his feet, until it stopped dancing wildly.

He was shaking from hand to foot, afraid as he had been very few times in his life, if any, as he propped her head onto his shoulder, supporting her, and attempted to make her respond.

She opened her eyes soon enough, but his breathing still hadn't returned to normal.

"Master…" she mumbled.

"Can you put your arms around my neck?" he asked her urgently.

She did as he said, obediently, and they climbed the rest two steps safely. As soon as they were inside, she let go of him, and stumbled on the wooden planks, where she landed on her knees.

Robin, still shaking, leaned against a branch to steady himself.

When he saw she couldn't pick herself up, he rushed to her side and knelt next to her, taking her arm. She pushed him away, evading his touch. He leaned back, as though she had burned him, his heart aching with the memory of how she had pushed him away only once more in the past, when she was afraid of him, when she thought him to be her enemy.

Then she turned to look at him, and he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

"Oh," he exclaimed involuntarily, his heart lurching inside him.

He tightened his lips together and tried to get a hold of himself.

Slowly, she turned and curled herself in a ball, hugging herself as though trying to stop the pain from spreading.

"You are unwell," Robin said abruptly, his voice gruff, trying to keep the panic at bay. Then, more kindly, "what is the matter? What is it? What's wrong? Why are you-?" The word burst from him like a frantic prayer. "Please."

Still she did not speak.

She turned away again, and lay down at her side, facing away from him. He wanted to put his hand on her shoulder, which was shaking with her sobs, but he daren't lest she push him away again.

"Rosa, Rosa, tell me," he almost shouted finally. "What is it? Are you ill? Why didn't you tell me when I asked? You almost fell down there; you almost fell to your death."

The sobs subsided.

"I beg of you, tell me, lest I go mad with worry," he repeated more gently, his words sounding like a moan.

She murmured something against the wooden wall, but he didn't catch it.

"What did you say? Rosa, listen to me, I beg you, you would not conceal a thing like that from me, you _would_ tell me if you were sick, or hurt, wouldn't you?"

"I am not sick or hurt," she said, a bit more clearly.

"Then what is the matter? Why did you almost faint out there?"

"I am sorry that I put you in danger," she replied. "It was foolish of me and irresponsible."

"Never mind that," Robin said, barely controlling his voice. He felt like exploding. "The greatest danger was of my heart stopping from fright. What happened? Will you tell me now?"

Silence.

He clenched his fists, waiting.

Then, she spoke.

"It is…. It is my monthly- my womanly complaint, master."

The surprise pulled him to his feet.

He did not dare speak after that. The moments passed, and neither of them moved.

He, standing there, slim and tall, dwarfing the whole cabin, stunned, ashamed, remorseful.

She, on the wooden floor, facing the wall, not daring to look at him.

He pressed a fist to his lips.

"I see," he said finally. "Right, you are… Oh, God, I am so sorry." He ran his hands through his hair, taking a shuddering breath. "And are you feeling…? No, of course you are not."

He stopped himself.

"If I may ask," he said a minute later, kneeling next to her again, his voice as tender as he could make it, "is it always so bad as that?"

She lifted one shoulder.

"Sometimes," she said.

"And you have been feeling like this for days?" he pressed on.

"No, only today."

He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. She did not move.

"Do not… do not be embarrassed, my lady, please, the fault is entirely mine," he said slowly. "And if there was any shame in this moment, it would have to be mine, for not understanding what was right before my eyes. I have… I have not had much chance to live among women, or I would not be so insensitive to your needs. Will you… will you forgive me?"

She moaned.

He was immediately alert.

"My lady," he whispered, swallowing hard. "You are in much pain?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, a heartbeat later.

"You have been all day?"

"No, not all day," her voice came muffled, choked.

He pressed his palm against her back and stood up.

"I will be back in a minute," he said. "Is there anything else you need, besides cloths and warm water?"

At that she slowly turned his way. He saw she had both hands pressed against her stomach.

His heart constricted. He wanted to place his own hands there, to comfort her as he could, to help her, to heal her. To take the pain away. To take it on himself, if possible.

She didn't raise her eyes to his, as she asked:

"How will you bring it all the way up here?"

"I will," he said simply. "What else?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Only… one thing, perhaps."

"Anything."

"I…" she stopped, hesitating.

"You are unwell again?" he asked quickly, leaning down.

"No, it's not that, it's that I don't wish anyone to know about all this…"

"There is not even a need to mention it," he interrupted her.

He was back a bit later, with a cup of honeyed wine, a bucket of hot water and an armful of cloths. He lay them down next to her, as softly as he could, and stayed there, watching her back, helplessly.

"Thank you," she tried to say, but it came out as a whimper.

He fell on his knees beside her.

"Rosa. My dear girl. What can I do?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Tell me what to do to bring you some comfort."

"Please get out," she said.

"What?"

"I need you to get out right now," she repeated, her voice growing faint.

He left immediately, but he spent the entire night at the root of the tree, listening for signs of distress, for any sign that she needed him.

His men knew better than to ask him, the following morning, where he had spent the night, and he climbed up to look in on her. She was sleeping then, but a few hours later, when he peeked in at her door again, her large eyes were looking for him, as though she had been listening for his footsteps.

As soon as he came into view, she averted her gaze.

He was beside her in two strides. Gently but firmly he took her chin in his rough fingers and turned her face towards him.

"Let's have none of that, my Rosa," he said, "or I will assume you are reproaching me for last night."

"I am reproaching myself," she replied, "and my folly in showing my weakness to you."

"There is no folly, no weakness, but in what you just said. Now, look at me."

She did.

Her cheeks flushed slightly red with embarrassment, but she met his gaze bravely.

"That's my girl," he said, and his voice sounded a bit breathless. "How are you feeling?" he continued, his eyebrows meeting in concern. "You were suffering acutely yesterday."

He let go of her chin, for his fingers were trembling suddenly.

"I am better," she said. "All thanks to you."

"I have to tell you," he said, with a rueful laugh, "I have never felt so inadequate in my life. Or so damn scared."

"I am sorry I was the cause of it."

"I am not. And you know how much I enjoy feeling inadequate. Or scared."

She laughed.

Right then, he suddenly felt, if he never did anything good with his life anymore, he would be contend with this small triumph. To have made her laugh.

Then she stopped laughing with a sharp intake of breath.

He swore under his breath.

"Promise me something?" he asked in a minute.

"Yes."

"Promise me you won't climb down today. And before you start protesting, please know I am the one who asks it of you, for my own peace of mind. I will bring you food, and keep you entertained, I promise, when you are not resting."

She did not speak for a while, and he worried that he had somehow offended her.

"Do not think," he added, "that I am presuming to command you, or ordering you what to do, I am simply-"

"It is not that," she interrupted him.

"Then what?"

She turned to look at him again.

"What will everyone say about me?"

He wanted to laugh away her concern, but he knew it was important to her. He bent down until his head was right above hers, and he took her hands in his own, gently placing a kiss on each one.

"If they think as I do, they will think that you are the kindest, bravest, most generous person they have ever known. If they do not, they are idiots and fools, and you know how I detest letting any of those set foot inside my forest."

She nodded.

"Do you hate me for what I did to you yesterday?" she asked finally, in so reluctant a voice, that he hardly caught the words.

He had to check himself not to kiss her right then.

When he thought his voice might be in control, he spoke.

"Nay, I do not hate you, my lady, as you well know." He took a shuddering breath, and continued, his voice a passionate whisper. "I rather think we had not better get into what my feelings are for you, neither at this moment, nor generally." He took a deep breath. "I do not trust myself, you see."

She never spoke after that, and he got up to leave.

"Better you shouldn't know about the depth of my feelings, anyway," he turned and murmured at the door, so softly, that only he heard it.

Right now, looking back at this bittersweet memory, he hated himself for a coward.

_I should have told her then how I loved her_, he thought, _and to hell with the consequences. _

That had been the first time he had seriously considered asking her to be his wife, and then disgusted himself with the idea.

After this incident, he was very careful with her every month when the time came, looking for signs, her paleness, and drowsiness, but most of the time he could hardly tell. He took care to provide her with water and clothes secretly, when he guessed she might need them, and not once did she turn him away.

And she did not sleep in the little tree-house even again.

The closeness they had achieved that first time when she had confided in him, and let him take care of her, was never again found, for as soon as she was well, Robin began to feel remorseful again, and kept his distance.

Some months, she stayed in her cabin for so much as two days, and Robin always managed to make up and excuse for her. She was grateful to him for that, but she never again needed his assistance as she had that night.

Once only he saw her grit her teeth as she was mounting her horse, and so he idly made a comment about the weather and how it would probably be more prudent for them to stay at the camp that day. He helped her dismount after that, and, although usually she was reluctant to accept any help from him especially in front of others, this time she let him carry her down from her horse, and then pressed his hand gratefully as soon as she was on the ground.

He bent and placed a small kiss on her hair, shutting his eyes at the pain of being near her and still so far away.

"You are a wonderful man," she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, a shy, muffled whisper, but he heard it, and the rest of the day passed in a daze.

"I am madly in love with you," he whispered back as soon as she was gone.

The next day he had stayed as far away from her as possible. And the day after that.

When Rosa woke up in the sunlit castle the next morning she was feeling even stronger, and the maids pushed Robin out the door to help her take a bath.

He stood outside her door, wincing at the pain the water must inflict on her every cut, almost feeling it himself.

The maids dressed her, and told him he could go inside again, as long as he let her rest, for "her bath had been rather painful on her, poor lass".

Robin walked softly to her bed, but she was seated and expecting him. Her hair hung in loose, wet strands on the pillow and he reached out a hand to remove a thick curl that had found its way to cling to her cheek.

She smiled at him and the sun came out in his heart.

"Rest," he said.

He did not dare call her 'Rosa', or 'my lady' as he once had. He felt he had forfeited the right to call her anything.

"I will be here when you wake up. Your ladies tell me you had a hard time of it. I am sorry for your pain."

"I will not be able to rest until you tell me," she said, and it was the first time he was hearing her voice properly after all this time. Emotions so strong assaulted him, he left as though his heart would burst.

He threw himself on his knees beside her bed, gasping for breath.

Then she saw that he was crying.

She hadn't seen him cry like that, ever. It was bitter tears than flowed down his cheeks, his weeping silent and despairing. It frightened her.

With difficulty, she raised herself on one elbow, and leaned over to cover his large palms with her slender fingers.

"Master?" she whispered, and made as if to get up.

At that he finally lifted his head.

His eyes, luminous with tears, pleading, met hers.

"No," he said quickly as he saw what she was about, "no, do not distress yourself."

He got up and helped her lay back on her pillows. She breathed heavily with the pain of the sudden motion, but her worried eyes never left his.

"How are you?" he asked tightly.

"Anxious," she said.

"For what?" he replied immediately. "You are safe now, and I will never again let you from my sight. I will swear it if you like," he added with fire.

"I am anxious for you, master," she said, the affectionate word she always used for him, from the beginning, when she was still 'Stuart', melting his heart.

"I am yours," he said fervently, "as I have always been. Coward at heart, and foolish and headstrong, but still yours."

She looked at him, but he could see that she did not understand the true meaning behind his words.

"I mean to know," she said firmly, "I need to know why you are here. Is it for pity? Do you feel sorry for me, because I once again have managed to get caught by my nefarious parent? Do you feel responsible in some way because I once spent some months in your forest camp? Do you…"

"Stop, please, stop," he moaned, dropping to one knee beside her. "Please," he repeated hoarsely, once she had fallen silent, "or my heart will break."

He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to hers.

In that moment he knew.

He knew that she loved him.

He knew that no matter what he did to her, how horribly he behaved to her, how much he betrayed her and let her down and pushed her away, he knew she would always forgive him.

She would always sacrifice herself for him, as she had done then, years ago, as she had done just now, as she had done in countless small and great ways.

She would give and expect nothing in return.

Because that was who she was and how she loved.

Loved him.

_Him_.

"I came to find you," he began slowly, looking at her, "as soon as I heard where you were, and I would have come even if you hadn't been in danger. I do not feel sorry for you or pity you. I did not spend this whole time since the day I saw you last fasting and watching and looking for you to the ends of England, to the ends of the world even, because I knew it would be my fault if you were somewhere injured, or unhappy, or dead."

He swallowed and shut his eyes as at a painful thought.

"When I learned you were the girl who had saved me that day, when I learned the price you had had to pay simply to save the life of a worthless outlaw…"

"No, do not…" she tried to interrupt, but he stopped her, with a finger on her lips.

"A worthless human being, little more than a thief and a beggar," he repeated, "when I found that out, I did not know what to do with that knowledge. It was so great, it threatened to swallow me whole. How do you thank someone who did that for you? How do you repay? How do you atone? How do you accept it? How do you live with a burden like that? It was too much for me. I couldn't handle it. So I did the worst thing I could do. I drove you away."

He smiled mournfully.

"Of course, if you knew me better, you would know, as I did, that I was too weak to send you from me forever. The household I was proposing to place you at, was at very close distance from the forest, and I swear to you, as I know myself, I would make a nuisance of myself to you there, visiting you every other day on some pretext or other, unable to live without your sight for more than a couple of days."

She lifted wondering eyes to him.

"Master," she said, "if I had known all of this, if I had waited…. I simply thought what I was taught to think as a child, that I was not wanted, that I was not…"

Tears were running from her eyes now, and he placed his lips on her cheeks, kissing them away, drinking them like precious wine.

He reached out and closed her in his arms, careful not to crush her cuts and hurt her.

"You _are_ wanted," he said gruffly against her hair. "You are loved."

He released her, only to look deep into her eyes.

"Rosa," he said, tasting the name on his tongue like it was the first time he was using it. "My precious girl."

A lone tear started from his left eye, followed by an identical one on his right. She started to exclaim.

"Shh," he whispered. "I have loved you from the day you came to me dressed as a boy. Did you know that?"

"What?" her eyes had opened enormously, as though that was the last thing she had expected to hear fall from his lips. He laughed quietly, in spite of his tears. He wiped them away, but as he spoke, new ones followed them.

"I did not come to find you because I had driven you away, or because you were in danger and I could not live with the thought of something happening to you. I did not come here because it pains me to see you suffer and I wish, I wish with all of my heart there was something I could do to ease your path through life, although the most I am able to do seems to be making it harder for you. All of these are true, but they are not the reason I sit beside you as you sleep and count your breaths, ready to run to the doctor if your heart so much as misses a beat."

He stopped, and lifted a trembling hand to his hair.

"Then…. Why?" she asked slowly, as though he was a problem she was trying to figure out.

"Don't you know?" he replied, and he looked like a little boy right then, in spite of his unkempt, long-uncut hair and the roughness of his chin.

His eyes searched hers pleadingly.

"I love you," he said with a breath that sounded like a shudder.

He insisted on leaving after that.

He did not trust himself with her anymore. He did not even kiss her. He stayed until he was sure she understood what he was telling her, and then, when she fell asleep, he got up and left.

Sir Gavin met him at the grand hall.

"Oh no," he said in that sarcastic way of his. "Outlaw or no outlaw, you are not leaving her like that again."

"Like what?" Robin asked, surprised.

"Broken-hearted," Sir Gavin answered severely.

So Robin went back upstairs and waited for her to wake up. As soon as she saw him her face lit up with a smile, but he could see the doubt clouding her eyes, and he hated himself for it.

"Master," she said drowsily.

"Rosa," he whispered coarsely, although the word that had sprung to his lips at first had been 'my love'. "Listen, I have to…"

"Go," she said. "I know. You have stayed too long already."

"It is not that," he said quickly, "you know it will tear me in half to part with you so soon, but the truth is, things have sort of fallen apart in the forest in the last five months…"

Rosa looked at him anxiously.

"Because of me?" she asked.

"Because of me," he corrected. "However, I find I have renewed strength to deal with… everything."

He looked at her and his eyes shone.

She smiled again, and looked away. Then, suddenly, she became serious again.

"What is it?" he asked immediately, leaning in. "You were happy a minute ago. Now your smile is gone. Why?"

"I was just… thinking about what you said yesterday…"

"Yes?"

She remained silent.

He knew what she was asking, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Look at me."

She didn't.

He took her hand.

"I love you," he said. "It's true, you didn't dream it. I said it. I meant it. I love you. I love you."

She finally raised shy eyes to him.

He laughed, his black intelligent eyes twinkling with a secret light.

"You heard me, right?"

She nodded.

"Good," he said. "Not that I mind repeating it. In fact," he leaned back, "I intend to repeat it as long as you need me to in order to believe it."

"Master…"

"Call me Robin."

"Robin."

"Yes, Rosa."

"How did it happen? I mean, why… I don't… I never dreamed…"

He couldn't help kissing her after that.

He tried to check himself, but he was beyond holding back, as he tasted her lips with his, and turned her neck with his palm in the right angle so that they would both savor each other as much as possible. She sighed against his mouth, and he let her breathe, but he did not release her, he could not bear to so soon.

He leaned his head against the hollow of her neck.

"As long as you need until you believe me," he repeated, looking her straight into her eyes, and there was something in his expression, that made her lips tremble. "I am serious in what I am telling you, Rosa. I love you. I have loved you from the very first. I loved you when I thought I'd lost you forever. And I loved you when I found you hanging from that wall two days ago… I broke my heart with loving you."

He kissed her temple.

"My love," he whispered.

She hid her face in his shoulder and he caressed her hair as he had longed to do since the first time he saw it, flowing behind her in the morning lifht, in the river.

"I know it is a lot for you to believe," he said, "especially given my behavior, but I promise you this, I promise I will make you believe me if I don't do anything else in my lifetime. I have to leave you now, and it is killing me more effectively than a thousand burning arrows, but I swear to you, I will not lose you again. Acutally, I will send one of my men here, so that he'll be nearby and call me at a moment's notice should you need me. Is that all right with you?"

"Julian," she said. "Could you please send Julian?"

He promised he would, although he wondered at her choice, but right now his heart was breaking in a million pieces and he didn't have time to worry about the silly youth. If she wanted Julian as her guard, she would have Julian as her guard.

"Goodbye," he said after a few minutes of gazing at her and warring with himself.

She didn't speak but she held on to his hand and didn't let go.

With a shudder he placed his hands on either side of her face and brought her lips to his, trembling as he kissed her. She was shaking too, and he cradled her head in his fingers to show her she was safe with him now, and would be always, although he had no idea of what the future was holding for them both.

Their kiss lasted until they couldn't breathe anymore, and then they parted panting, wiping tears off their cheeks.

He saw that she was paler than before.

"Did I hurt you in any way?" he asked her carefully.

"You are so beautiful," she replied, "you hurt me everywhere."

He waited until she had fallen asleep to leave.

He did not dare glance back at the castle as he was galloping away that evening, to the window of the chamber where his heart lay.

He did not dare, and so he rode madly and recklessly to the forest, and once there he threw himself into plans and action.

"You are to go back to the castle," he told Julian, and at that moment, he was so jealous of anyone who would be with her, and watch her, even from afar, that he could punch the man in the mouth.

"Very well," Julian said, and went to pack without a second word.

Robin ran to him and grabbed him by the shoulder roughly.

"Listen here," he said and his eyes were flashing. "You will be kind to her and good, and you will take excellent care of her and never leave her out of your sight, and if you even think that there is a slight chance of any danger approaching…"

His voice broke and he turned away.

"I know, chief," Julian said, not unkindly.

Robin turned to him again.

"Or I will have your head on a platter," he finished.

"Oh, that goes without saying," Julian said.


	19. Chapter 19: Masquerade

**Author's note: **A million thanks to my brilliant readers and reviewers:

_Hey Saturday you are so sweet, and you can't imagine what your kind words meant to me. I hope you will not be disappointed with this chapter…_

_CeaseFireOne I have to tell you, your reviews, although short, are really eloquent ;) thank you._

_Cassaroha always with a kind word for my story and its chapters. They both thank you. And so do I._

_Mrs.T'Abby S'chn T'gai Kirk__ thanks so much for writing such a large, detailed review, I appreciate it and you have no idea how it encouraged me once again. I hope you like this one._

_Anne8__ thank you so much for all the love _

_Guest thanks for following and for your kind words, they mean a great deal to me._

_heartbeat7 as you know, your pm motivated me to sit down and finish this chapter. Thank you so much for believing in me and encouraging me…_

_**Important Edit by the Author: **Your feedback is greatly appreciated, and that's why I decided to delete the scene that you dislike. After all, it's as much for you guys that I'm writing this as for myself ;) Sorry that the chapter became suddenly much shorter, I plan on adding another one as soon as possible, within the week, I hope. Just as soon as I come up with a way to connect this part with the rest of the storyline I had planned. Any and all ideas are extremely appreciated, as always._

_I hope you will remain with me and that you will forgive me the previous plot line that you disliked (although, for the record, there was no baby in fact, nor was the storyline going to stray away from our beloved Robin and Rosa.)_

_Again, I thank you with all my heart for your support and kind words. Talk to you again soon._

_(If you have already read this, it's exactly the same minus the part with you-know-what, so you don't need to read it again. Again, sorry.)_

**Chapter 19**

**Masquerade**

Julian wasn't exactly happy at the castle.

Very soon Rosa was up and about and in good health, but for him there was little to do except follow her every step –mostly- and keep his eyes open whenever someone new appeared at the castle.

And many did.

The grand feast Sir Gavin had been preparing before the Sheriff's invasion of his castle had been postponed for a fortnight, until the castle could be restored to order and Rosa could regain her strength. There was another reason, of course, that the plan of the celebrations was to continue exactly as planned. Sir Gavin had no thought of sending Rosa away yet again from those who could protect and care for her. And anyway, he had to think about the protection of his land and people, as well.

So he decided to pretend that nothing had happened.

He decided he would go on exactly as before. They all would. They would pretend Robin Hood had managed to stop the Sheriff's men before they managed to enter his castle.

They would have their feast.

So tables were put out and dresses were sewn and the castle walls were patched-up and the kitchen maids were busy from dawn till dark.

And every day new guests arrived.

Opulent lords with rotund bellies and fair-faced youths offering their arms to beautiful maidens. And ladies, gossiping and rustling with silks, turning their fans. Ladies dangerous behind their smiles, and more dangerous than all one of them, one among them, the fairest, the loveliest and the smartest.

She arrived one day with the sun shining through her blonde hair as she dismounted from her horse, aided by one of the stable hands. She was called Lady Emmeline, the maids told Rosa, and was brought as a bride to their master. Rosa raised her eyebrows at this, because at first sight she had thought she had seen a malice in the woman's eyes, a hardness that did not suit Sir Gavin's thoughtfulness.

But what he chose to do with his life was, after all, his business and Rosa turned her thoughts again to the matter at hand. Which was, of course, Julian.

In the meantime Robin had miscalculated the possibilities of his own comings and goings.

It became apparent soon after he was gone that it would be extremely dangerous if not foolhardy to return to the castle. For all they knew, the Sheriff might have the place watched.

So for the sake of his men and of the castle, Robin stayed where he was and prayed that his love was safe and still believing in him though they were apart. And Rosa did think of him too, in spite of her worries about Julian.

She had no intention of losing her brother once she had found him. But it was proving harder and harder with each day to get him to talk to her, let alone like her. Let alone believe her fantastic story of how his little sister was alive.

He kept watch over her and he tried to find some way to occupy his time, but he was clearly unhappy and maybe even resentful towards her.

"You are not content, my lady," Sir Gavin said to her one day. "Are your injuries giving you pain still?"

She was taking a stroll through his gardens, which were blooming in the late afternoon sun, and he was sitting in a corner, watching her in his quiet way.

"No my lord," Rosa replied absent-midedly. "Thanks to your capable and caring maids as well as the multitude of healers you have provided for me, I hardly feel any pain."

"I am glad to hear it," Sir Gavin said calmly. His eyes never left her face, however. "But there is something that troubles you, and I would like to know what that is."

It was strange, his way, of almost never asking for anything, but always, demanding, simply stating. Yet no one ever seemed to be able to refuse him.

"It is…" Rosa inclined her head slightly towards the stables, where Julian was seen grooming his horse. "It is my guard," she finished her phrase, helplessly.

Sir Gavin was on his feet.

"I will send immediately to the forest for a replacement," he said, "Has he insulted you? Harmed you in any way?"

"No, no, of course not," Rosa said fiercely, hurrying towards Sir Gavin. She stopped him, stepping right in front of him and looked into his firy blue eyes. "It is quite the opposite. I… and he, we are…"

Sir Gavin took an involuntary step backwards, as though he had been slapped.

"Oh," he said, "I see. I was wrong indeed. The wind seems to be blowing in the opposite direction, as they say…"

"I am not sure what you mean," Rosa interrupted him, "but I don't think you understand me quite. You see, Julian is… my brother."

She whispered the last word shyly, almost reverently, afraid to believe it herself.

Sir Gavin lifted surprised eyes to her face.

Then he nodded gravely.

"Please forgive my presumption," he murmured, but Rosa didn't even hear him. She seemed lost in her own thoughts. "Pray, tell me more," he said.

So she did.

That evening, as she was climbing the tall flights of stairs to her room, Julian intercepted her. He ran after her and jumped three steps ahead of her, so that he was towering above her in a second.

"Forgive me, my lady," he said formally. "Sir Gavin said you wanted to see me immediately after supper. So here I am."

Rosa leaned back and sighed with exasperation.

"Stop calling me 'your lady' and speaking in that idiotic manner, as though I was the queen," she said, all the disappointment and frustration erupting from her.

Julian bent his head low and then lifted his gaze to hers and looked her in the eye, his pain and hostility naked.

"What do you want, then?" he asked disdainfully.

"I want you to listen," she answered, sudden tears pricking her eyes. "Only that. And then you are free to go, if you like. And continue hating me."

She took him to her room, where they would have privacy. She didn't care for the impropriety of it. She didn't care what he thought of her, how her sudden need to speak her mind struck him. She only wanted to have her say. And she did.

She told him a story.

Their story.

She told him the story from the very beginning, about the mother who was a princess starved for love and the father who was a Sheriff starved for power and riches. About her faithlessness that resulted in a boy child, him, Julian.

And about a little girl, born rightfully, within their broken marriage, herself, Rosa, although then she was called by another name.

About the discovery, a few months after the little girl's birth, of the act of adultery, and of the older boy's true parentage, and the anger, the hurt of the father, who was also the Sheriff.

She told of how, in a fit of rage, he sent his wife with her bastard son away, to the ends of the land, to live as a beggar, and how she, seeking to revenge him, stole his little girl also, leaving him alone, and desperate, and searching the land to get her back.

She said how, as she herself remembered it, one day in her fifth year, their mother gone almost mad with hunger and grief and lust for lovers who had abandoned her long ago, the mother had put the little girl out in the snow and ordered her to run until she would be seen no more from the small, derelict house.

The girl, walking on naked, shaky, tiny little feet, tried to walk two steps and then fell face-down in the snow. The boy, by then grown up to almost a young man, saw everything through the small window and ran to catch his sister as she fell. The woman from inside, their mother, screamed at him, that if he were to offer her a helping hand, he would forget about coming into the house ever again.

The boy, Rosa's story went, did not even have to think about it.

He took his little sister in his arms and together they traveled south, he hoping to reach her father, she absolutely content in his guidance and presence. He did not hit her, like her mother did. He did not tell her how ugly and wicked she was every day, because of her father, like her mother did. He protected her. He made her laugh. He bound her knee when she scraped it raw. He didn't let her go hungry, like her mother did, but found food for her before he would for himself.

For the first time in her brief life, she learned what love was.

She was loved.

She loved him.

One day she saw him swimming in a lake. He had told her to wait for him on the bank, to wait for her bath. But what he was doing seemed easy and fun, his golden hair streaked by the sun, his skin freckled and wet. So she walked in.

Julian screamed as soon as he saw the water covering her head, but she couldn't hear. He swam to her and dove a million times, vowing he would drown first rather than leave her there. Finally he found her tiny body. He pulled her out, he pushed against her lungs, he breathed into her mouth.

She became alive again for him.

The next day they were set upon by the Sheriff's men. They took her and beat him to a bloody pulp.

She went on living how she could, believing he had died that day.

She was given yet a new name.

But she had left the golden-haired boy behind her for ever.

Until she saw him again dangling from a tree one day in Sherwood Forest, although at the time, she hardly knew it was him.

The discovery of his identity came to her much later, when she heard him tell the exact same story to Robin Hood's merry men around the fire, although his ended differently, with her death. And until she had seen the locket with her childhood portrait inside, on the day of the storm.

That was it.

She had said the story and was spent with the effort.

Julian drank every word from her mouth, his expression inscrutable.

"You mock me," he said after some moments of silence had passed.

"No!" she shouted. "No, please," she was near tears now. "Please, listen to me, no."

"I know not where you gathered all these facts about my life, but you know nothing of me. Nothing," he added with venom.

"But I _do_ know, you have to-"

"I cannot believe you," he said, cutting her off, and then his voice broke. He got up to leave. "If you have any mercy, please stop torturing me."

And that was that.

The first night of the celebrations Sir Gavin announced his engagement to the Lady Emmeline.

Then he went straight to where Rosa was sitting, dressed in a rich velvet gown that her maids had chosen for her, the exact color of her eyes.

"You have hardly eaten anything in days," he observed in his quietly angry, abrupt manner.

His hair was tidily tied back by a ribbon and he wore an elegant, midnight blue doublet that complimented his figure. He looked almost regal. The only darkness that was left to him was in the deep corners of his blue eyes.

Rosa looked up at him, startled.

She had no energy for conversation. She had only been forced from her room by her maids and by the knowledge that she would be expected to join the company by her host.

"And _you_," she answered dryly, "have hardly spoken two words to your new fiancée."

He almost laughed.

"She and I have little in common," he answered. And then, sobering abruptly, he sat down beside her.

Around them, the jouster had started his tricks and a troubadour was preparing his instrument to spin his fantastical tales.

The woman, his fiancée, was staring at them murderously from across the large room.

"So, why are you not eating?" he persisted.

He could be exasperatingly persistent when he so wished, she had discovered.

Instead of an answer, she shrugged.

"I will not leave, you know," he said, "until I have an answer."

He sat and waited.

"I forgot to congratulate you, my lord," she began, "for your engagement…"

"I thank you," he interrupted her. "Now tell me." He leaned closer to her and looked into her eyes. "What is it? Tell me."

"It's to do with my brother," she answered.

"He has hurt you," he said fiercely.

"It is hard for him to believe in my tale, I understand that," Rosa replied. "Besides, since he already dislikes me, I shouldn't be surprised that he didn't jump at the chance to believe we are related."

"I would be his honor, I assure you," Sir Gavin said quietly. "Did he…?"

"Please don't ask me further," Rosa stopped him. "And please, for God's sake, don't speak to him about it, like last time."

"Forgive me, I thought I was helping you, my lady," he said.

"No, you did help me," she corrected him quickly. "And I do thank you. But it is over now. Let us speak no more of it."

So they spoke no more of it.

But a great damage had been done that night, while they had sat, quietly talking. A damage that would not soon be undone.

Not before much pain and heartache had ravaged at least four people.

It was very simply done, really.

So simply that it would be hard to believe for anyone who didn't know the particulars.

She was taking a walk, as she did every morning.

Julian was a bit far behind, but still keeping her in his sight.

Then she turned left into the shrubbery where she was momentarily concealed by the thick, tall bushes.

She heard footsteps.

Before she had time to turn around, a large, dirty hand clamped onto her mouth making it hard to breathe.

Then her wrists and feet were bound and she was carried away without a sound.

Julian had lost her.

He became more and more sure of that fact with every step he took.

He began calling her name.

Quietly, at first, like asking a question. And when none was coming, more frantically. He ran.

He called to the guards to help him.

He became wild, he panicked.

Finally, when he had exhausted every step of the castle's grounds, he began to wander further.

That's how he came upon the cliff.

It wasn't exactly a cliff, more of a short drop into a circular lake, which was surrounded by trees. He looked down and he saw her.

At least he thought it was her.

He saw someone, a head, rippling through the water, and then submerging again.

And in that instant, he knew.

He knew who she was, because the memory came to him abruptly, like a realistic dream and within seconds the whole thing had played through his head. How he had watched her drown, in almost exactly the same way, years ago, as a little girl, how he had known right there and then than his life was over if she could not be saved.

Just like now.

He saw it with perfect clarity. And he knew, by the sudden flash of her red hair a second before she was lost beneath the surface that it was she.

Rosa. Joanna. Rosa.

What did it matter?

She was his sister.

His long-lost sister.

And she was drowning.

He didn't have time to kick off his boots, even though he knew he could swim faster without them.

He dove from the cliff, a straight arrow, headfirst into the water. There was no searching this time. He knew exactly where he had seen her sink. And his endurance was better than when he had been a boy. He held his breath and didn't release it until he surfaced with her.

He removed a small knife that he always carried in his right boot and he cut her ropes and released her mouth. He held her so that she was floating against his chest on the surface of the water, and breathed into her mouth, the salty water mingling with his tears.

"I believe you," he whispered, choking on water. "Please forgive me, please."

He pushed a few long strands of her red hair away from her bruised lips.

"I love you, my little girl, my sweet sister," he said again. "I will be your family if you will have me."

Then he placed his lips upon hers and breathed with all his might, shutting his eyes against the hope that was threatening to crush him.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. Then her eyelids drifted shut again, but this brief glimpse of life was enough for Julian. He trode water faster than he had ever thought possible, tugging her powerfully, and once he climbed ashore with her in his arms, he ran like the wind.

Like a madman.

Sir Gavin was livid.

He paced outside her room day and night, even after the healers told him there was no danger, even after the possibility of infection or fever had passed, even after she was well enough to get up and walk.

Then he got inside and sat on her bed.

The look he had in his eyes was dangerous and it frightened her, slightly. She was dressed. She sat up and told her confused maids to leave the room.

"Who did this?" he asked without looking at her. "I need to know."

"Please…" Rosa began, but she was interrupted by the entrance of Julian in the room, not less forceful than Sir Gavin's or less remorseful.

"How are you?" he asked her, hoarsely.

"I am well enough," she replied tersely. "And I would be even better if you would stop acting as though this was my deathbed."

Julian flinched at this word.

"Don't say that!" he cried. "If you knew…"

"I was asking her who it was that attacked her," Sir Gavin interrupted.

"And I was trying to tell him I never had a chance to see their faces," Rosa replied.

"Surely you heard them speak, surely…" Sir Gavin pressed on.

Rosa bent her head down, exhausted. Julian held up a hand to stop Sir Gavin and inclined his head to the door. Sir Gavin nodded once, and got up and left without any further words.

Julian turned towards his sister.

"I am sorry," he said to her.

She took his hand, his strong, callused, blacksmith's hand in both her slender ones and held it.

"You shouldn't be," she replied. "Not by any chance."

"Oh, but I should," he said, caressing the back of her hand. "I am sorry for losing all this time with you. For… insulting you so many times in the forest, in front of Robin. For needing something like that to wake me up to the truth. For not…"

"Shhh."

Rosa stopped him with a finger against his lips.

"I have found you," she said. "That's all that matters."

He opened his arms.

And she fell into them, feeling as though her life was only just beginning.

The feast went on.

The days grew long and weary, the entertainment began to bore everyone and the ladies made their gowns ready for the great ball which was to take place on the last night of the feast.

Rosa knew, deep down inside, who it was who had engineered her kidnapping and near murder.

At first Sir Gavin was suspecting the Sheriff, but soon it was obvious that this was not his style. Besides, what he wanted was Robin Hood, not just revenge on his faithless daughter.

No, Rosa knew who it had been.

An instinct told her, every time she glanced into the Lady Emmeline's beautiful eyes, that in their depths was a steel capable of a crime. Capable of obliterating everything that came between her and her wishes.

Rosa didn't know why Sir Gavin had chosen to sit so close to her the night of the engagement. She suspected he had been bored out of his mind and felt pity for her as her protector. She could clearly see, however, how his actions could have been misconstrued by his fiancée, since he had insisted on introducing her, Rosa, as a princess, a niece to the beloved and true king of England.

What woman would not be jealous after that?

Now, Emmeline might just be murderous on top of jealous, but Rosa vowed to herself that she would not say anything. How could she repay Sir Gavin's kindness to her by ruining his engagement, and on a mere suspicion of an idea too, without any solid evidence?

So, she kept her silence and kept her brother close, content in his company and his approval. Sir Gavin, however, never let off questioning her about that morning, growing more and more furious when she wasn't forthcoming with information of what she had heard and seen.

The feast would soon be over, Rosa thought, and the lady would go back to where she had come from until her nuptials, a time at which Rosa, one way or another, was planning to be long gone. So the danger, imagined or real, from her, was soon to cease.

"I have found my brother, at long last," Rosa told Sir Gavin one day, trying to appease his increasing displeasure with her. "And he has found me."

"I am very pleased for you," he said and his voice softened immediately, as though he sincerely meant it. "You have known so much sorrow in your young life, you deserve this happiness. And much more."

"Thank you," Rosa replied, surprised at his sudden kindness. "You yourself, my lord," she added, "have shown me more kindness than I expected to see in a lifetime."

He opened his slender fingers and laid them atop hers.

She didn't know what to say.

"I am just glad that I was in time," he whispered finally, and his voice sounded hoarse. "I am grateful that I didn't lose you before I could get to know you at all."

"Now that I've found Julian," she said, trying to lift the awkward silence, "I think that we should make a life for ourselves somewhere, together, away from… all this."

He was silent for a moment, thinking.

"And from him?" he asked.

She didn't pretend she didn't know whom he was talking about. She shrugged.

"I am not convinced, after all is said and done," she said, "that we would be good for each other, me and him."

"Would you do me a favor?" he asked.

"I owe you my life at least twice over," she replied, smiling. "And all you are asking is a favor?"

"Only in the light of your friendship, willingly given," he insisted.

"It is yours, whatever you ask of me," she said.

"Please wait," he said. "Please stay here until you are sure. Until you are perfectly sure of what you want and must do. Will you promise me that?"

He made her promise to attend the ball as well.

And he insisted upon choosing her gown himself. This time it was a deep burgundy with sapphires sewn into the bodice and a deep blue ribbon around the waist.

Her maids braided her hair in a crown around her head after bathing her with perfumed oils and salts. She waited patiently until it was all done, dreading the moment when she would climb the stairs down to the dance hall, and she would have to face them all. The whispering ladies, the sneering maidens, the gawking men.

She stood at the door of her room for ages, unable to gather up the courage to walk out.

Finally one of the maids that were cleaning up her bath noticed her, and came to stand next to her, in a gesture far too bold for her position.

"Go on, my lady," she said shyly, "you will be by far the prettiest woman in the hall."

Rosa turned frightened eyes to her.

The maid looked back at her, suddenly alarmed.

"Surely there is nothing to be afraid of, my lady," she said. "Not with the master and the brave man Julian watching out for you every minute. I've seen how they both look at you, my lady, and believe me, you have nothing to fear."

As it would turn out, she was terribly, incredibly, criminally wrong.

Rosa didn't dance for the first half hour of the festivities.

She sat in a corner, with the women, sipping from her goblet, and meeting Julian's eyes across the room every few minutes to assure him she was all right.

They had suspected that tonight, with so many people from the nearby villages and estates in the room, it would be possible for one of the Sheriff's spies to slip in easily with the throng, so Julian suggested they remain apart and watch.

So she sat inconspicuously, blending with the crowd, until suddenly a tall shadow was blocking the light of the candles.

"Dance with me," Sir Gavin said, extending his hand.

"You must be out of your mind," Rosa replied.

"Come," he insisted in that calm way of his, although his eyebrows were beginning to rise on his forehead and his hand was twitching impatiently. "I desire it."

They danced.

He placed his hands around her waist and lifted her to his shoulder. He turned her around and joined his palm to hers. He twirled her and lifted her again above his head. They stepped carefully, gracefully in time, listening to the chords of the lute. They inclined their heads in time and he never once left her eyes from his.

The dance ended at some point.

He left her and took in his arms another woman, who happened to be his fiancée's sister, which was right and proper, without a second glance to Rosa. She watched him for a second, and saw the same devotion he had shown to her. She saw his eyes staring into the depths of the eyes of his new partner, she saw no difference in the way he held her.

She turned back to regain her seat, perplexed.

The crush was great, and it took a long time to take a single step between the velvets and the silks and the thick, dense atmosphere created by the luscious candles and the rich, ruby wine.

But she had no time to ponder upon the question of what Sir Gavin was up to this time. Before she had taken more than three steps on the creaking wooden floor, pulsing with the steps of the dancers, when she saw him.

She didn't know his name, but she recognized him immediately.

He was one of them. One of her father's guards. He was mingling with the other guests, sipping the golden wine, and he was just now turning his head in her direction.

She felt her knees go weak, but she forced herself to act.

She turned her head away immediately, not meeting his eyes, hoping he had missed her in the throng. Then she tried to catch Julian's gaze, which she did immediately, since he was already looking for her, alert for any sign of distress.

She inclined her head imperceptibly and he started walking calmly towards the door.

She exited from another way, and they met halfway down the corridor that led from the dancing hall.

"What is it?" he asked, immediately, reaching out to her, his blond eyebrows drawn together.

"He's here," she answered, "one of them. One of his men, one of the…"

She couldn't say the word.

Her knees finally gave way and she sank to the floor, shaking violently, images of the last torture she had suffered at the Sheriff's men rushing through her mind at an amazing speed, stealing her breath, but a pair of strong arms caught her.

"Easy now, I've got you. I am here," Julian said, kneeling with her on the hard floor. "You are safe, I am here," he repeated.

Right then, hurried steps echoed in the sudden silence.

Rosa tensed, but she couldn't see who it was. Julian, however didn't move.

"You'll be missed," he said to whoever was coming their way. "You should go back."

"Is she unwell?" a gruff voice asked, and Rosa recognized Sir Gavin's voice.

He too knelt on one knee and peered anxiously into her face.

"You look pale as death," he observed.

"Thank you, my lord," Rosa replied sarcastically.

"She is merely frightened," Julian said, getting to his feet. "She saw a man she recognized as one of the Sheriff's."

Sir Gavin tightened his lips. He reached a hand out to Rosa's cheek.

"I don't like her frightened," he told Julian.

"I will take her to her room," Julian replied, hurriedly, but Sir Gavin extended an arm to halt him.

"Wait," he said. "I don't generally enjoy being hunted. Neither do I like hiding away."

Julian crossed his arms against his chest.

"And what do you suggest instead? Murder him?" he sneered.

"Why not?" Sir Gavin shrugged. Then his gaze fell upon Rosa, crouched on the floor, and he seemed to sober up. "I say, we get him good and drunk, so that when he goes back he can't even remember his own name. Humiliate him right in front of all our guests and send him to face the fury of his master. What do you think?"

Julian thought for a moment. Robin had taught him that humiliating the enemy was as satisfying a victory as one could manage without killing.

"And what about Rosa?" he asked in a minute.

"She comes with me." Sir Gavin raised her gently off the floor. "And we dance. All night, if need be."

There was a strange gleam in his eyes, and Rosa wondered if she imagined it, or whether he was enjoying this in earnest. She, however, had her own objections to the last part of the scheme.

"That's not a very good idea," she said.

"And why not?" Sir Gavin bowed to her, mockingly.

"Because…."

What could she say now, without revealing her suspicions?

"I don't feel quite up to it," she said eventually, something which was, as a matter of fact, quite true.

Julian looked down at her in concern.

Sir Gavin frowned.

"Trust me," he told her, putting his arm around her waist.

And it sounded to her ears earnest and fervent like a plea.

They danced into the night.

Whenever she needed to stop to take a breath, he stopped with her. He didn't even spare a glance for his fiancée or for any other woman, much as she tried to steer him in another direction.

They danced until her feet were sore and he had to lift her practically for an entire movement.

They danced until she couldn't see the man from her father's guard anymore, even though she had generally kept an eye on him as Julian played cards with him and filled his cup again and again.

They danced until after midnight.

"Do you hate me very much?" he asked her at some point, although up to then he had been silent and severe.

"What would I hate you for?" she replied.

"For taking advantage of the situation," he said.

"I would not choose to dance with you so much if it weren't necessary, it's true," she retaliated, suddenly tired of trying to pretend she wasn't watching her back from his affianced all this time.

"Is that what has your eyebrows meeting?" he asked, releasing her arm, which he had taken a hold of, for the movement of the dance. "I did not mean to press you, frankly," he made as if to step away from the dancers.

"It is if it makes the woman you are to marry jealous," she replied.

Understanding came into Sir Gavin's eyes, and he gripped her arm more firmly, almost smiling one of his rare smiles.

"My dear," he said, "do not suppose for a second that ours is anything more than a business transaction. She doesn't care for me any more than I care for her. Now, my riches, that is quite another matter for her sensitivities."

"Still, I am not sure it is a good idea to provoke her so," Rosa went on, determined to have this matter out now that she had begun.

The steps of the dance separated them for a moment, and when they came face to face again his eyes were serious and sparkling with the sudden fire of one of his quick angers again.

"Make no mistake," he told her fiercely, "I was merely asking to see if you were still afraid, for your paleness had me worried. Further than that, my personal matters do not concern you."

She bowed her head to show she had understood and they didn't speak again after that.

When midnight passed the crowd became even wilder.

The wine ran freely and Rosa's mind was put to rest since Julian had whispered in her ear that 'the man had been taken care of'.

Sir Gavin deposited her on a comfortable seat by one of the large fireplaces and went to pursue other entertainment. His demeanor had never sweetened towards her after his last remark, but she couldn't care about it right now, she was so bone tired.

She was beginning to think about excusing herself and going to bed, when someone spoke her name.

"My lady Rosa," a deep, slightly exotic voice said in her ear, and she turned to find a long, lean cloaked figure kneeling at her feet.

Her lips began to form a question, but she was stopped short when the man lifted his face to hers.

His eyes were the color of the deepest black, sparkling in the candlelight with humor and excitement. Nothing else was visible beneath his black mask, except for his lips, pressed in a thin line together and then the tip of his clean-shaven jaw.

He reached out a long, gloved hand which dwarfed hers and the next minute he was twirling her among the never-ceasing dancers.

"You shouldn't have come," she whispered to him as soon as she had got her breath back, which in fact was quite a long time afterwards.

He leaned down to listen to her and his very presence, his very scent was intoxicating to her.

He caught his breath against her hair.

"I could not stay away another minute," he replied, his voice unsteady. "Are you surprised to see me dancing so well?" he asked, half-mockingly, trying to lighten the mood, for already time was passing by and they were that closer to the moment they should part.

She sniffed against his shoulder.

He understood.

He was fighting a sudden emotion, too.

"I knew," she said. "It stands to reason, when you are so good at everything else…"

"Not everything," he murmured staring into her eyes mournfully. "I have been exceptionally inadequate in loving you. And keeping you from harm."

"And keeping yourself from harm as well, it would seem," she rejoined. "What are you doing here? We just found a man from Nottingham only hours ago..."

"I heard all about it," he said, pressing a quick kiss on her hair. "Julian knows I'm here." He shut his eyes for a minute, as if pained. "I must find a place to take you where no one will threaten you, I cannot bear this."

"You are here now," she said. "I am safe enough."

"Will you say my name once?" he asked.

"You know your own name," she replied, hiding her face in the folds of his cloak. "Besides," she murmured, "you stand out already in this disguise without me proclaiming to the world you are the prince of outlaws."

"I am not the only one here disguised or wearing a mask," he said defiantly, looking around to the guests. "But my girl knew me at once, didn't you, my Rosa?"

"I did, Robin," she said and felt him shudder against her. "You took such a risk coming here, I am afraid for you, you… you should go," she went on before she lost her courage.

"Tired of my company already?" he asked, and his voice sounded deceptively amused. It didn't fool her for a moment.

"I was tired indeed, before you appeared out of thin air" she replied, lifting her luminous eyes to his. "But when you are near me I find I cannot feel anything else except-"

"Except loved," he finished her phrase for her, leaning down to speak into her ear. "Loved, so much loved," he repeated in a quiet voice. "Adored."

She trembled against him and he tightened his arms around her.

"You are afraid?" he asked, leaning back to look into her eyes.

"I am afraid of the moment you will have to leave me."

He held her to him.

"Not yet," he said. "Not yet, my love. I cannot…" he whispered, tortured. "I find I cannot tear myself away from you. I am entirely under your spell."

So they danced some more.

It was a completely different feeling now whenever the movement of the dance demanded that he lifted her in the air, and she was leaning into him, being held in his strong arms with complete abandon.

"You looked sad when I first saw you sitting there," he observed. "And a bit thinner, if I am not mistaken. Are you terribly unhappy?"

"I miss you," she answered softly.

"Come back to me," he whispered fiercely, joining his gloved hand with hers, as the dance demanded. "Marry me. Come live with me. Share my poverty, share my danger. I am going mad with wanting you there beside me."

She took a step back and tried to look into his eyes, but he had suddenly bent his head down and she couldn't see his face.

"Robin…" she started.

"Forgive me," he said, crushing her to his chest. "Forgive me for speaking so out of turn. Forgive me, my sweet girl. This is not the place nor the time, I know. It is your very presence that weakens me."

Then, suddenly,

"May I kiss you?" Robin asked.

She lifted her face to his instead of an answer.

His kiss was full of his need and his desperation, hers was salty with tears. They melted into each other, he cupping her head with his large hands, she tugging onto his dark cloak.

"I am yours," he sighed against her lips.

Then, with a breath like a gust of the chilly wind that was blowing outside, he was gone.


	20. Chapter 20: Mourning

_**Author's note: **__Thank you so much everyone for your patience and your feedback. Seriously, you are amazing. I still can't believe that there is someone out there reading the stuff I write. I am writing for you now as much as for myself. Maybe even more. I keep being scared that I'll disappoint you, but you always continue to encourage me. I especially thank you for telling me to correct the previous chapter and with all my heart I hope you enjoy this one, and that if you don't, you'll once again give me the chance to fix it._

_Special thanks to everyone who read and or reviewed this story, who added and or alerted it, or favorited it and especially to:_

_**Hey Saturday**__:I still can't believe I actually read these words. Are you sure this was the story you meant to write that review for? Seriously, I read it once a day to give myself a boost of encouragement. Thank you so much._

_**avr1432**__**:**__thanks so much for your feedback, you were a great help. I hope you like where it went now. Thanks for your kind words, too._

_**BurnedSpy**__: Well, it took me a bit, but I did update, right? Right? you're still there aren't you?_

_**Guest **__and__** Evie**__: your opinions have been taken into accout. Although, let me just say here, for the record, it was to be proven that she wasn't pregnant, nor had her virtue been compromised. I still think you could have waited and seen where I was going with it. But still, it all turned out for the best._

_**Z**__: Wow! Did you say books?! BOOKS?! Thank you so much for your encouragement. Yours is also a comment I go back and reread often. Thank you thank you thank you._

_**RobinHoodFan1**__: thank you so much, your review was a really great encouragement, and it gave me the push I needed to believe in this story again. (especially since you are Robin Hood's number 1 fan)_

_**Protagonist Of Life**__: this was actually very very helpful, thank you ever so much for reminding me _

_**Bookworm**__: It was the cherry on top that did me in, you know. Since your comment I have been writing nonstop._

**Chapter 20**

**Mourning**

Rosa was too restless after his visit to go to bed.

Slowly the dancing crowds began to thin, and as the sky began to lighten, some of the guests began drifting outside, in the gardens.

Julian came and sat next to her, as she was sitting perfectly still, her eyes large and sorrowful. He took her hand.

"You are chilled," he said.

She didn't even turn to look at him.

"It was a mistake to allow him to see you, wasn't it?" he asked, anxiously, when she wasn't responding.

"Of course not," she replied. "Besides, do you really think you could have stopped him, if he had made up his mind already?"

"I have only known one person to be able to bend this man to their will, little sister," Julian said. "And that person is you. Come, I'll take you to your room."

Once in her room, however, sleep eluded her.

The dawn was beginning to color the sky a soft damask hue, and Rosa stepped out for just a minute.

All of the guests, or most of them were inside, sleeping or finishing off the wine, and she felt no need to wake her brother, as she knew that the place was crawling with Sir Gavin's guards, and the light was becoming stronger by the moment.

Right before the man grabbed her, she had had a thought that this was exactly how they had taken her the last time, although then it was a bit later than the break of dawn, and right under Julian's nose.

This time the man –he was only one- didn't speak.

He didn't blindfold her, although he choked her until she almost passed out, for fear that she would scream. As he dragged her behind the bushes, she saw two of Sir Gavin's guards lying in a pool of their blood, arrows sticking out of their throats.

With a move swift as lightning, Rosa removed a small sharp blade from the front of her bodice, which she had taken to wear on her person at all times since the first attack. Her head told her it was useless, but her hands had already acted out of habit before the thought had had time to settle in her mind. She brought the blade quickly and expertly to his throat.

He didn't even falter as he was dragging her across the parterre. Out of a bush to her right, an arrow shot immediately, lodging in her shoulder and paralyzing her hand, which dropped the knife immediately. Without missing a beat the man removed the arrow from her shoulder brutally, and the pain must have caused her to pass out for a moment, for the next thing she knew he was pushing her against a tree, her wound screaming in protest, blood splattering her dress.

She kicked at the man as hard as she could, weak as she was from the pain and the blood loss, and she dreaded the moment when he would bind her hands and feet, like they had done the last time.

He didn't though.

He tied her to the hard, bare trunk of the tree, completely unconcerned that someone would see them, probably because he had gotten rid of any guard that might pass that way.

Then he turned to face her.

That's when she saw him, and knew him, and knew exactly what was going on.

She screamed, an unearthly, white scream, with no noise, that tore at her lungs and ripped her heart in a thousand pieces. But it was impossible for anyone to hear.

_This isn't happening to me_, she tried to think. _It's a nightmare_. But then the man smiled wickedly, baring his teeth with malice, as he thrust his face closer and forced his mouth on hers, choking her. _Robin, oh no, my Robin_, was her last thought.

It was Robin that found her, as though it was by her thoughts alone that she had summoned him to her aid. Ironically, it was not very long after the man had tied her to the tree. It was, however, long enough.

Robin had been battling with himself all the way from Sir Gavin's castle on his horse. He shouldn't have asked her to marry him, not in that fashion.

No, he should have stuck with it, he should have insisted on an answer.

But then it _was_ unfair to her. Well, no more unfair than living in a stranger's home, with no friends and facing who knows what dangers.

Still there would be far more dangers in the forest with him. Only yesterday he had nearly gotten killed by a poisoned arrow that he managed to duck just in time.

But he would watch her like an eagle.

Even if that left him with time for nothing else. Not that she would allow that, of course.

Ultimately, he found he had to go back to her.

Damn the night that had all but passed and would no longer cover him with darkness. Damn the danger and the imaginary men who were lurking in the shadows.

He was a man in love and was made crazy with it, and what's more he knew it, and didn't care. He was doing this and that was that.

He happened upon them by pure chance, although his instincts were on fire as soon as he rode through the gates and he saw no guards on the grounds.

First he saw the man in the distance, leaning next to the tree, struggling with someone that was lying on the ground. He couldn't discern that the someone was Rosa, but still he urged his horse into a gallop. Then man lifted startled eyes in his direction and wiped his lips. Then he ran like the wind just as Robin stopped his horse abruptly, his heart in his mouth, and flung himself from the saddle, even before his horse had stopped moving. He had caught a glimpse of Rosa lying there, tied to the tree.

Later, he had no recollection of how he got from his horse to her. No recollection of how he fell on both knees and tried to cover her nakedness and touch her swollen, bleeding lips and examine her to find where all the blood on her dress had come from.

He remembered commanding himself to act, to not think, to not imagine what might have happened to her, to not wonder whether he had been in time or not. And then, because his brain wouldn't obey him, he sobbed uncontrollably for the first time in his life.

He cried as he untied her. He cried as he rubbed the sore spots that were scraped raw from her struggles to free herself. He cried as he took her in his arms and checked to see that she was breathing. He cried as he took off his cloak and wrapped her in it, for her own dress was torn and didn't cover her.

And he cried as he carried her up the stairs to the castle and screamed at Julian and Sir Gavin to wake up.

Julian just stood there, gawking in shock, seeing nothing.

Sir Gavin ordered a clean, warm bed to be prepared immediately in his own rooms, and closed the door behind Robin and the small, prone figure on the bed, as he went himself to call a healer.

Robin had woken her up and wrapped her in warm covers by the time Julian recovered the use of his brain. Julian dressed her wound as well as he could, although the arrow had not gone as deep as they had feared at first and the bleeding had already stopped.

Rosa blinked unseeing eyes and whispered something undecipherable before blacking out again.

Robin leaned over her.

"What did you say, my Rosa?" he croaked.

Julian turned to him.

"Robin, you're still here? It's dawn, you should be gone," he said, trying to collect his wits. Then he saw Rosa stirring and reached out his hand to take hers.

"Don't –touch her!" Robin shouted. "How did this happen?" he continued, turning in anger to look at him. "I trusted you," he pointed to Julian, his eyes shining with anger and accusation, "I told you I trusted you with her life…"

"You can kill me tomorrow, chief," Julian said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, "if I have not obliged you myself, that is, but right now you have to go."

Robin ignored him and knelt beside the bed, taking her fingers in his hands.

"I was in time, I think," he whispered and winced. "Although I suppose she still will remember everything up to…"

Rosa turned and woke again.

"Oh," Robin breathed, in horror, as soon as he saw the fresh blood on her shoulder, and pressed his palm to the wound.

"Ju," Rosa said, speaking through bruised lips, with difficulty. "I want Julian." Her breath came with difficulty.

Robin snatched his hands away quickly.

"I am not leaving you with her," he spat at Julian, without taking his eyes off Rosa. "You have done enough already. Go."

"I will stay with her, chief," Julian replied, as he stroked his sister's long tresses on the pillow. Then he stepped in front of Robin and tore his sister's dress further down in order to clean the wound.

"I am here," he said softly to Rosa. "Chief, _you_ should go," he added. His tone was respectful, but firm. Robin's head snapped in his direction in surprise.

"What did you say?" he asked, incredulous.

Not one of his men had ever dared to defy his direct orders, which, although given rarely and in urgent circumstances, were always to be obeyed.

"I'm not leaving her, chief," Julian repeated calmly. "Besides, it is you who are in danger every second that you stay."

Robin watched him for a moment, working deftly, tenderly, with his blacksmith's hands. Rosa leaned against her brother's arm.

"Ju, he didn't ruin me, I swear," she whispered in another fit of lucidity. "I dreamt of Robin, I think…" she was interrupted by a fierce cough, for her throat was fragile with bruises both outward and internal after the man had tried to strangle her into submission. "The knife you gave me, I tried…" she started saying, but she couldn't catch her breath.

Robin leapt to his feet and lifted her gently, cradling her neck carefully, so that her breathing would be easier. He felt his heart breaking within him with her every word, and he knew that he was crying again, although his eyes were dry.

"Hush, little one," Julian told her in a strangled voice and motioned to Robin to step away from her bed.

Robin stared at him, shocked, a monster of jealousy rising within him. And then a revelation hit him, and he almost stumbled from the surprise.

"Good God," he said tenderly, looking from Rosa to Julian and then back to her, as though he couldn't believe it. "You are Julian's red-headed lost little sister."

She opened her eyes at this moment and saw him with clarity. One of her sudden smiles lit up her face and he felt like a king. His eyes stung with tears, his arms aching to lift her to his chest.

"How could I have been so stupid?" he whispered. "You have the same brow as that scoundrel of mine. Your eyes have the same shape. And I had thought he was seeking to serve me well all this time he remained here. And I had thought _I_ was his chief. It seems I was mistaken." He stopped and cleared his throat, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He lifted a finger and ran it along her forehead. "How fortunate he is to have found you. To have in you his family."

He let her go gently.

"How infinitely more fortunate than any other man on green England," he added.

Julian looked at him and smiled a tight, cryptic smile that was more of a grimace.

"I tied her up," he said simply. "Now go, the Sheriff's man could wake up any minute."

"How…" Robin began but he had to stop and clear his throat. "How came you to care so for her?" he asked finally, and his voice sounded strange to his own ears.

"There is nothing to envy here, chief." Julian answered him as though he had read his thoughts. "Her heart is more yours now than it will ever be mine."

Robin would have scoffed if he had had the energy for it. Now he sank, cross-legged to the floor.

He lifted his gaze and looked Julian straight in the eye.

"Do you think we… do you think she can overcome this?"

Julian averted his eyes and swallowed hard. "I can't think of that right now," he said quietly.

The next moment Robin was leaping up from his spot on the stone floor, his brow furrowed in concern. "She has fainted again," he said and clenched his hand by his side so that he would not run to her and crush her to his chest.

Julian eased her back on the pillows. "She breathes easy," he replied. "The healers will ascertain what damage has been done."

"But… but she was fine, she even said…" Robin sputtered, white with fear.

"Chief," Julian said for the hundredth time. "Go."

"How do I leave her?" Robin burst out, tortured. "You know why I came back? I wanted to tell her… and now…How do I get on my horse? How do I even climb down the stairs? How…"

His voice was beginning to sound a bit hysterical by now.

Julian tore his eyes away from his sister's pale face and looked at him squarely.

"Put one foot in front of the other," he said.

Robin did just that.

But at the threshold he paused, for one final look at her.

"Do me a favor," he told Julian.

"He won't live to see the night," Julian replied immediately.

Robin Hood had been in time, the healer confirmed. She redressed the wound and brought them poultice to fight the fever with. She instructed Julian and the maids to have her up and about and walking as soon as the fever abated, which was the very next day. The wound was rather shallow and the infection hadn't set in so Rosa got up out of her bed for a few moments every day to walk in the gardens with her brother and Sir Gavin.

She was silent and thoughtful, and they both knew she needed time to forget.

What they both didn't know was who her assailant had been. For Julian hadn't been able to keep his second promise to Robin Hood. Rosa refused to tell them, and nothing they could either of them say would persuade her.

Robin felt trapped inside the green forest, mad with fear and anger and unable to ride out to see her. He spent his days roaming the forest energetically, sparring with his men and robbing obese abbots, but the humor was gone from his eyes, and his fierceness whenever he held the sword scared even his men.

Sir Gavin rode often to his camp to tell him news of Rosa, but after five days had passed and still the man hadn't been found, Robin threatened to come and kill him himself.

"I cannot remain sane for much longer, you know," he said. "I am here and do nothing while she suffers…"

"Give me one more day," Sir Gavin said. "And then you may come to my castle and set fire to everyone who lives in it."

Robin laughed a dry, wild laugh, cursing himself for thinking he had been ready to wed her before. Now she wouldn't even see him, "she was too fragile", Sir Gavin had said. Robin knew what that meant.

He had let her down.

Again.

And she wouldn't trust any of them enough to say the name of her attacker.

In this however, Robin was wrong. The reason Rosa refused to speak about it was that the man who attacked her had been lady Emmeline's brother. She had recognized him in a minute. He was still in the castle, she supposed, although she refused to dwell on his whereabouts. She was never alone, so she felt relatively safe, and Sir Gavin made sure that she was left alone by his fiance's family and the few remaining guests, whom, much as he wanted to, he couldn't send away without an explanation.

Rosa trembled at the thought that her attacker was somewhere in the grounds. She longed to leave this place behind, to fly to the forest, free and wild, to be with Robin. But she was too scared to face him with every day that passed, feeling the man's rough lips on hers, erasing Robin's every kiss, his hands on her skin banishing Robin's caress.

On the other hand, she refused to ruin Sir Gavin's future, even though he had referred to his marriage as a "business transaction" that night. She would not be the cause of a man's death, nor of a betrothal's ruin. And thus she had but one choice. To suffer in silence.

She didn't know that her decision was putting Robin in even graver danger than he already was. She didn't know that she had only one more day until he exposed himself to everyone in the castle. Truth be told, she preferred not to think of him altogether, not until her nightmares of lady Emmeline's brother grabbing her subsided a little.

So Julian and Sir Gavin watched helplessly as the final day that Robin had given them drew to a close and prayed that at least he would have the sense to wait until nighttime to ride out.

Robin, of course, proved them wrong.

Julian had only just escorted Rosa to the dining hall to break her fast, when the front doors of the castle burst open and a slender, tall silhouette appeared between them against the morning sunlight.

"My lady Rosa," Robin's voice echoed in the halls, "I wish to speak with you."

Sir Gavin leapt to his feet, as his guests began flooding in the hall from the staircase, curious to see the stranger who had upset the castle with his cries.

Julian ran to Robin.

"Discretion, man," he whispered through clenched teeth.

But already Rosa was walking towards the door.

"I am here," she said simply, and although she was a bit pale and swayed as she moved, her face looked calm and collected. She reached him and proceeded him outside, without allowing him to take her arm.

She walked on, hoping he was following her to the gardens, away from curious eyes.

"Who was that savage man?" she heard the shrill voice of the lady Emmeline ask in the background, and then the silence and the distance drowned out Sir Gavin's rushed apologies.

Rosa heard quick footsteps behind her and in a minute Robin was standing before her.

It had been so long since she had seen him in the sunlight and now he just stood there, his hair wild and long, his eyes shining like black stars, his lips thinning as though trying to keep in the words, his long and graceful body dressed in dark, muddied clothes. He took her breath away.

Robin took her elbow to steady her, with a sigh and there was a bitterness, a hardness in his gaze that disturbed her. Without taking his eyes off her face, he led her to a stone bench to sit down and catch her breath.

Then he simply stood next to her, silent, his head bent, and waited.

Rosa tried to calm her breathing. The minutes passed. No one seemed to have followed them. A muscle jumped in Robin's jaw, but still he waited silently. Rosa knew what he was waiting for. There was no point now to berate him for his folly in coming to find her in broad daylight.

"I cannot tell you what you wish to know," she said at last. "I wish I were braver," she added softly.

At that he lifted his midnight eyes to hers.

"I can't imagine how you could be," he said simply.

She made as if to get up and leave, but he was sitting next to her in a second, staying her with a hand on her shoulder.

"What is this?" he asked abruptly. "You turn away from me?"

She couldn't turn around and face him, but his hand was like steel on her shoulder and wouldn't let her move. He got up, stood in front of her.

"Talk to me," he pleaded more gently, his voice coming from a suddenly dry throat. "I'm listening."

She swallowed with difficulty.

"How can you even look at me?" she whispered.

"What- look at you?" he stumbled in his surprise, falling to his knees in front of her. "Look at me, this is me you are talking to, your Robin."

"I can't," she said. "Please don't make me."

"I'll die before I make you do something against your will!" He almost shouted it in his vehemence.

"Please," she sighed, heartbroken at the sound of tears in his voice. "Please, do not be distressed on my account."

Then he heard a soft sinking sound and he leapt to his feet just in time to catch her as she fell, crouching on the ground, crying as though her heart was breaking, crying all the tears she had kept inside.

"Shhh," he whispered tenderly, "hush my girl, I am not worth your tears." He stroked her back, which was racked by sobs. "We will get through this as we got through everything else. You'll see. My brave little warrior."

She tried to speak, but her breath was spent with crying and her words came out in gasps. As soon as he understood what she was saying, however, Robin felt his heart break in a million pieces. _How much more horrible it would feel to die?_ he wondered absent-mindedly.

"My lips cannot remember your kisses anymore," was what she said. "All they can remember is that…"

She couldn't continue, but it was just as well, for Robin couldn't bear it anymore. He reached for her, crying in silent, dry sobs himself as well, and pulled her into his arms. She resisted at first, but he was stronger and insistent and finally she let him hold her.

Then, with a deep sigh like that of a man deprived of air for hours, his lips found hers.

He felt her faltering in his arms, but he held her more firmly, and even before she realized what was happening, she was kissing him back, through her tears.

He pressed his lips against hers, teasing and caressing her, and then his mouth was on her neck, on her shoulder, on her palm, then again, with more passion than before he took her lips until he couldn't tell which was his breath and which was hers. Then they collapsed against each other and he held her until she could breathe again.

"There," he gasped, as soon as he could speak. "Was that sufficient? You will remember this from now on?" He laughed softly against her cheek. She smelled of clean air and sunshine.

She didn't answer him at once, only rested her head against his throat and tried to regain her breath.

"Please" he begged, after a moment of delicious silence, bending his head low so that his pleading eyes would be in the same level as hers. He shut them briefly. "How else can I ask you, how can I beg you to tell me about… about the lowlife who attacked you?"

She winced at his words.

"Forgive me," he murmured, but she was already pushing him away and getting up.

He fell on his knees in front of her.

"I can't stand it," he added, in a whisper.

"Is that what you came for only?" she asked, exasperated. "Is that why you…?"

"No!" he shouted, leaping to his feet, "No! You can't think that, you know my heart."

"Then why can't you leave it alone?" she was out of breath, shouting as well, all the desperation that had driven them apart a year ago coming to the surface again.

"Please," he repeated, trying to calm his own voice, "please, is he in the castle right now? I am out of my mind with worry. This… inaction is driving me demented."

"You cannot always have your way, Robin," she sighed. "You cannot always push for what you want…"

"You are asking of me the impossible," he said, through clenched teeth, reaching for her hands.

She pushed him away resolutely. A look had entered her eyes, a look of pure determination that scared him, for he knew it well.

"At least for one thing, I thought I was sure," she said, her cheeks flushing in anger. "I have made my decision and although Sir Gavin and my brother are not bound to respect it, I thought you would."

She stopped for breath, and Robin, shocked, tried to say:  
"Rosa, please don't speak like this…" but she went on, her voice breaking.

"I have nothing more to say to you. I thank you for your great generosity, and for saving my life that day and… many more times, although of late it certainly has seemed a terrible waste of your time and efforts."

At this he paled visibly and reached out a hand to support himself as if a sudden wave of dizziness had hit him.

"What are you saying?" he whispered, horrified. "Rosa, what is this despair I hear in your voice? Do you indeed think your life a waste?"

She made as if to leave, but he took her arm and stopped her.

"Answer me," he commanded.

For once, however, she did not bend to his will.

"Let go of my arm," she said.

He had no choice but to obey her, and stand back, watching her as she walked back to the kitchens. He was preparing to follow her, cursing himself for an uncouth idiot, when it happened.

It was so fast, he at first didn't understand what he was seeing.

One minute her slender form was walking away in the distance, and the next she was bending over, crouching over the ground as though at an immense pain.

He was running before he realized his legs were moving.

He caught her just as she was collapsing to the ground and tried to lift her face towards him. She was deathly white, struggling to catch her breath.

"Rosa?" he shouted, panicked. "Look at me, breathe."

He knelt down with her in his arms, trying to support her head on his shoulder, looking frantically around for help. A strangling sound came from her throat, as though she was choking.

"What is it?" he asked in desperation, "tell me how to help you."

She turned on her side and was sick.

He held her hair out of the way and put a hand on her clammy forehead to steady her.

"Oh, my sweet girl," he murmured, and then was frightened again, because he felt her go limp in his arms. "No!" He gasped, "no, stay with me, open your eyes."

Her eyes were open, but there was such despair and terror in them, that he felt himself shaking from head to foot.

"What is it, tell me, what is happening to you?" he shouted.

She turned again to her side and he thought she would be sick again, but there was nothing in her stomach left.

"I am right here," he whispered in her hair, "and your brother is just around the corner. You will be fine. Can you walk?"

He didn't wait for her answer. He lifted her easily in his arms, trying to stay calm in spite of the fear that rose inside him when he heard her whimper softly.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently. She shook her head.

"Robin!" a voice shouted in the distance. He turned abruptly and saw Sir Gavin running towards them. "What happened?" he screamed as he saw Rosa in his arms. "Who was that…?"

"No!" Rosa shouted, trying to climb out of Robin's arms to the ground, but then the world was spinning around her again, and she felt his muscles tightening around her and then darkness.

"Come inside," Sir Gavin told Robin, leading him through a small, dark door.

Robin carried her inside the stables and laid her on the straw. He was still shaking. "I don't know," he told Sir Gavin. "One minute she was fine and the next… I was losing her."

"What did he want? Did he speak with you? I wasn't fast enough to stop him," Sir Gavin whispered aside to Robin.

"Who?" Robin asked. "I saw no one. Maybe Rosa saw him."

Sir Gavin leapt to his feet.

"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Of course she saw him, that's why… It was he!" He was already hurrying out the door as he said that last, and then, as abruptly as he had come, he was gone'

Robin had no thought to spare on Sir Gavin's cryptic remarks, because he felt Rosa stirring in his lap. He moved quickly to support her head, and felt something wet on his arm.

"D—n!" he cursed under his breath, tearing a piece of his tunic. "Your wound has opened again." He swiftly pressed the cloth to her shoulder, wincing at the pain he must be inflicting. "How do you fare?" he asked her gently.

"Don't leave me," she sighed through white lips.

He grasped her small hand in his fiercely.

"Never," he vowed, bringing it to his lips.

"Talk to me," she said after a moment of silence. He was panting as though after a long run. "Don't let me think. Talk to me of the forest."

So he began to talk to her of the green leaves and the singing brooks and the latest scrape Much and Will had fallen into until her breathing calmed and the bleeding stopped. His heart inside him was still beating like a drum.

It seemed hours had passed in this way when Julian finally found them.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his eyes taking in the scene and his brow wrinkling in concern. "You must come quick."

But then he stopped when he saw the blood.

"I am well now," Rosa said calmly. "Is something wrong?"

"Well…" Julian looked at Robin.

Rosa tried to get up, but Julian knelt next to her immediately.

"Maybe you shouldn't come after all." And then, looking anxiously at Robin, "and _you_ definitely shouldn't come. Why, of all the stupid notions…"

"You said we had to come quick," Rosa reminded him anxiously, suddenly the color draining from her face at a thought.

Julian looked at her and she understood.

"Oh no," she whispered. "What have I done?"

She stood up too quickly and Julian leapt to his feet just in time to catch her.

"Easy," he said. "There is no more rush. What's done is done. He is asking for you, though."

"Is he wounded?" she asked, anxiously. "Is Sir Gavin wounded?"

"Will one of you tell me what on earth you are talking about?" Robin asked, at the end of his tether, as they started walking out of the stables supporting Rosa between them.

Julian turned to look at him, his eyes hooded with sorrow.

"Sir Gavin found him," he said simply. "They fought. The man was the brother of his affianced, it turns out. He was killed in the duel. And Sir Gavin lies mortally wounded."

"I killed him," Sir Gavin said, as soon as Rosa knelt next to his bed and took his white hand in hers.

She was shaking, but had herself well on hold.

Robin stood behind her, watching her hold back her terror, biting his lip out of desperation that he couldn't help her.

"Dry eyes," Sir Gavin said, speaking with a catch in his voice. "That's my girl," he added with satisfaction.

"I didn't want to ruin your life, to… to cause your death" Rosa said, in a voice that was barely trembling. "I didn't mean to repay your kindness to me with pain."

Sir Gavin tried to raise himself up on one elbow, but his strength was going. Still, he smiled. Rosa had never seen his face look so calm, his eyes so at peace. All the bitterness was gone. The happiness in his countenance was breathtaking.

"You think you could ruin my life?" he asked her tenderly. "No, I told you once I was dead before I found you. Do you remember?"

"I do remember," she said.

"Well, it's true. And now I have finally done something good with my life."

He leaned back.

"Robin, he said in a second, it's just as well you won't have to kill me. Or you, Julian."

"What?" Robin asked in a strangled voice. "Don't say things like that, man."

"I had seen him, you see," Sir Gavin went on. "That minute, when I met you in the courtyard, my eye had caught him right in front of you, right outside of the kitchens, he had snuck away to spy on you both. It was only later that I realized I had seen him looking at you, Rosa, just for a second, and that look told me everything I wished to know. At least Robin cannot reproach me anymore."

He reached for her, then thought better of it.

He turned his head away and his lips trembled at some sudden emotion.

"To think that I had you living in the same household as he," he said in a strangled voice, "to think you were dreading each day that you would see him… no wonder you could find no peace. No wonder the mere sight of him made you sick."

"Is this true?" Robin asked, quietly. He turned to Rosa. "Was this why you were so distressed out there?" he asked her gently.

She nodded, mutely.

"It is my fault," she whispered, horrified.

Robin placed a strong arm around her waist. "No!" he whispered back to her, furiously.

She turned to look at him and his heart broke. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears, her lips trembling.

"If you do not want me to think the same thing about you in a moment," she said quietly, "you will get up and go hide yourself somewhere safe. And as soon as it is dark, you will go."

He didn't want to obey her.

Or at least he needed to talk to her first, they had left things badly before.

But he saw that Sir Gavin's moments were numbered and he could sense his feelings for Rosa, so well-concealed all this time, only now surfacing, for one final time. He couldn't begrudge him that.

He got up and knelt next to Sir Gavin.

"I cannot find the words to thank you," he told him.

"You don't need to," Sir Gavin answered. "Only see to it that she isn't hurt like this again. She has been through much more pain than she should have."

"I will try." Robin said in a strangled voice, hearing the reproof in the dying man's words. Sir Gavin tugged him closer weakly. Robin bent his head towards his ear.

"I fell in love with her, you know," Sir Gavin breathed with difficulty.

"I know," Robin whispered back, his eyes brimming with tears. "Me too."

Sir Gavin died at the first light of dawn. "Forgive me," he said to Rosa, as he felt his life going.

"What for?" she asked.

"For caring for you when I could not care for her," he answered simply.

Rosa got up and pressed her lips gently to his.

"You saved my life," was Sir Gavin's final words to her.

He died with a smile on his lips.

He had had time to provide for her before his strength was completely worn and she could stay in the castle for as long as she wanted. Of course, the news would travel fast and the new rightful to the lands would be on his way soon enough, but Julian insisted that she wasn't ready to go back to the forest yet. He was right, Rosa knew, for more reasons than he himself understood, although she had difficulty explaining to him that a night under the Greenwood Forest trees was much preferable to the gloomy old hall that reminded her acutely of Sir Gavin's absence.

Guilt ate at her constantly. For Sir Gavin's death, most of all, but also for Robin's absence. It was she herself that had sent him away, and she did not regret her decision, but she feared that after their confrontation he was too eager to obey her for once.

She feared she had seen the last of him.

That's why after the funeral and the wake, the next morning, when she sent off Julian for a ride, since he had been cooped up inside for far too long, she took a sudden, mad, decision.

It was the first time she had felt so full of energy, the first time in a really long year. She felt excited like a little girl.

She went carefully to Sir Gavin's rooms, and picked out some of his shabbier clothes. Then she went to her room and resolutely wiped her eyes. It seemed she had done nothing but cry in the last few days. Now, however, she was finally going to do something other than standing around and feeling guilty.

Her plan was simple.

She would go to Robin. Not as herself, but as Stuart. She knew she couldn't recreate that first time she had seen him, she knew she couldn't rewrite that story from the beginning, erase all her mistakes, undo all the pain, right all the wrongs. But for a moment, as she was slipping Sir Gavin's tunic over her head and tying a belt over his too-large hose, it felt like she could.

She would go to him and she would apologize.

That was all, really. She was almost certain that the matter would end there. She was sure that Robin loved her now, but she was also sure that it would not do for her to go back to the forest, even though that was what her heart was longing for.

But she could do something about the guilt that threatened to swallow her whole. She had asked Sir Gavin's pardon before he died, but he insisted there was nothing to forgive her for. So now, she would ask Robin to. He'd do it, she was sure, he'd forgive her if she asked him.

She'd go now, in the daylight, and then borrow a horse to come back by night. Julian would be furious, but she wanted to do this alone. She wasn't used to having him with her, and although she was thankful for finding him, she was embarrassed to talk to him about Robin.

So she got dressed and took off on foot, hoping to beg a ride with a cart from the village, which she did, sliding easily into the role of urchin she had learned so long ago for Robin Hood's sake.

She reached the outskirts of the forest in good time, the sun still shining above her head, and it was only then that she felt the first qualms of uncertainty. During the ride, in a cart full of sheep, she felt oddly elated at the thought of seeing Robin Hood again. Now, however, she only felt fear. What was worse, she wasn't sure she would remember the location of the camp. And what if they had changed it?

Ignoring these thoughts, she walked on resolutely for a couple of hours, noticing suddenly that the sun was talking a sudden dip towards the horizon. The evening birds started their sweet song all at the same moment, it seemed, and she realized that her throat was burning with thirst.

She tried to tell herself that it was too early to declare defeat, but the old despair and guilt were already starting to creep up on her and she was fighting a loosing battle.

She lifted her hand to her cheek and realized with surprise she had been crying. She sat down, on the pine-covered forest floor. _Even so_, she thought, _this is the calmest I have felt since the attack at the masquerade ball. There must be something magical in this forest to lift my spirits up so. Or is it simply the thought of Robin's imagined nearness that has the power to heal me?_

She was resigning to her fate and beginning to look for a place to sleep, when she heard them.

They sounded like a thunderstorm at first, and she looked up at the clear blue skies in surprise, but then, as they drew closer, small sounds started to become individual and for a moment she was frozen to the spot by sheer terror.

Dogs. It was a pack of wild, war dogs, a pack, a herd of them, running at full speed towards her. She remembered now hearing a while back about the Sheriff's new plan to capture Robin Hood and his outlaws, he was gathering wild dogs to set loose in the forest and attack them. She had laughed then, thinking the scheme ridiculous, but now that she could actually see the size of these beasts and their numbers reaching as far as the eye could see, she knew that if she didn't start moving now, she was dead.

She started running, but it was getting dark and she was exhausted. After tripping over a root for the third time and feeling the stings of the branches on her arms and face, she realized she would have to climb. But suddenly she was in a clearing. All this time she had looked for one, and now she had found it. But it wasn't the one she wanted, for there was no sign of a camp there, and she was now exposed to the rapidly gaining dogs, with nowhere to hide. She was trapped between them and a lake.

She had never seen this part of the forest before, although she had heard Robin's men talk about a deep, round lake that they went for a swim in, and supposed that this might as well be the one they were talking about. The distance between the beasts and herself was closing. She saw a large one, running whit huge paws, raising them to its jaw, opening his mouth as he was nearing is prey…

…and she jumped.

The cold water took her breath away and she swallowed a good mouthful before her head broke the surface. Her feet wouldn't reach the bottom no matter how much she stretched and she decided her best option was to start swimming away from the bank. She had no time however for more than one stroke, before the beasts were upon her. As soon as she saw them all leap on top of her, she drew in a breath, and ducked in the water. Immediately the still waters of the lake became chaos. Bubbles everywhere, barks exploded, brown and black beasts panting around and below her.

She tried to swim between them as they were searching for the surface, gasping and barking, and she was making some progress, when pain exploded in her right angle.

She opened her mouth to scream, and water came in. She choked, trying to expel it, and kicked toward the surface, in spite of the pain, but then the dog that had grabbed her ankle decided to drag her further down the water.

She fought against the beast, tried to kick it with her other leg, tried to push it away with her hands, but it wouldn't let go, its fangs biting into her flesh and its weight dragging her towards the bottom. Her lungs began to scream in protest, and her mouth opened involuntarily, swallowing water. Her hair clouded in front of her, blocking her vision of the black, troubled waters.

She let herself fall.

The hounds were hot on the heels of Robin Hood, Little John, Much and Gilbert. It was them they had at their sights when Rosa happened to cross their path.

The men, however, were used to dodging the Sheriff's Pack and immediately, at the first sign of trouble from the little animals of the forest that sensed the approach of danger, they climbed up. They were used to staying in the trees for nights on end, when the stubborn beasts wouldn't budge from the roots, and had come up with elaborate plans to outwit them and to escape them.

This time, however, was different.

As soon as Robin climbed the higher branch, he looked down at the dogs swarming beside the roots.

"Much, John, are you all safe?" he shouted.

"All here, chief," shouted John in reply. "Where are the blasted beasts off to now?"

For the dogs, or most of them, were continuing their quest, instead of waiting for their prey below the trees as was their custom. Robin peered in the distance and he saw a small form running towards the lake. The dogs were almost upon the little figure, which looked like a child.

"Chief, no!" Much shouted, reading his thoughts.

But Robin was already running along the trees, grasping at sturdy branches, a foot or so above the herd of dogs.

"Stay put, all of you," he shouted back. "Come to me only if you absolutely have to."

They all three knew what that meant.

He was on his own. Still, no one dared disobey him, unless they saw he was in immediate danger. His orders were clear.

Meanwhile, Robin was in for the shock of his life. For as he ran above the dogs, quickly overtaking them and reaching the clearing of the lake, he saw something and almost lost his footing. He managed to catch himself, however, at the last moment, and then he was watching, helplessly, mouth agape, at the sight right below him.

He recognized the boy who was running. He had seen this particular boy run a hundred times, he couldn't possibly be mistaken.

"No," he whispered to himself, "no, it can't be."

Then he watched in horror as the boy leapt into the lake and the dogs after it. When the boy's cap flew off and Rosa's hair billowed in the water, Robin was already on the ground, which was now nearly empty of dogs, and running towards the water.

Behind him, the three men, seeing their leader leap into midst of the beasts, were doing the same.

He saw her head breaking the surface one time, and then submerging again, and he cursed loudly and colorfully. He dove in the water in the midst of the maddened beasts, not even feeling their sharp teeth that jagged at his skin, and swam powerfully towards her.

He dove twice among the wild animals before he found her.

The dog who had gotten her had drowned, but his teeth were lodged firmly on her ankle and he was dragging her down like a rock.

Robin freed her boot from the monster's teeth, cringing as the water around her became red with blood and took her in his arms, swimming for the surface, trying to breathe air into her lips even before they reached the surface, for by his calculations she had been under for far too long.

When they broke into the air, the dogs around them were calming. They had lost the scent of their hunt, and were now shaking the droplets of water off their skin on the opposite bank.

Robin pressed his mouth onto Rosa's as he lifted her head above the water, and breathed air into her lungs. He stopped to catch his breath, panting, and then repeated the motion as his legs kicked the water mightily and propelled them to the bank. Immediately Rosa started coughing water and gasping for breath, so he turned her on her side, as he continued swimming towards the bank. Her eyes, wild, were searching for the dogs.

"They are gone," said a familiar voice at her ear.

She turned abruptly to look at her rescuer, her long auburn hair draped over his wet arm, the twilight around them enveloping the forest in a cloud of stars. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut short by a wrecking cough.

"Don't try to talk," Robin said, his tone sharp. "Not yet."

Then he was lifting her out of the lake and walking towards a tree to gently lay her down on its root.

"Just breathe," he told her, more kindly, brushing the wet hair away from her face. "Breathe for me."

The three men followed him, fearful and concerned.

"Is… is she alive?" Gilbert asked, his eyes dark with fear.

"Shut up," Robin spat at him, not getting up from where he was crouched, dripping wet, beside her. "Much and Gilbert, your coats," he commanded. They hurried to take them off. "Now go fetch me a horse," he continued without taking his eyes off her. "John, you stay, keep watch."

John ran and climbed on a high branch and the other two ran to obey Robin.

Robin wiped the water from his brow and drew in a deep breath.

"Rosa?" he said abruptly, shaking her, because her eyes were suddenly closed and her breaths came shallow. "Talk to me."

"I… I'm…" she wanted to say she was sorry, but her teeth were chattering and she wanted to sleep. Then another cough shook her and she was choking. Robin quickly took her in his arms and turned her in time for the water to come out. Then he held her until the spasms stopped and she could breathe again.

"Shh, I've got you," he tried to say to soothe her, but his voice came out like a croak, for it tore his heart in two to see her in such distress. Impulsively, he took her in his arms, and felt her shivering.

"You'll be better in a second?" he said, trying to rub her hands warm. Then he started talking to her calmly, as he continued to try to warm her up: "now, I'll take off your wet shirt and wrap you in Much and Gilbert's coats, alright? John is up a tree, he won't look, and neither will I, so you're safe."

He leaned her back down again, and she labored to catch her breath.

Robin worked swiftly with dexterous hands. "Why were you here anyway?" he muttered under his breath, "and where is that useless brother of yours?"

"Are… are you angry with me?" Rosa asked, through chattering teeth, and she raised herself to put on the coat herself. Robin pressed his lips together, and helped her. "Why won't you answer?" she insisted.

"Now is not the time," he whispered. "Come on, one more."

He helped her get into the other coat and then stood up to ask John if the men were anywhere in sight. Rosa tried to get up, but she felt a searing pain that almost made her faint and she fell back against the root, gasping for breath. In a minute Robin was beside her.

"What are you doing?" he almost shouted, with suppressed anger. "You can't walk yet, you were drowning a minute ago… Oh, God, your ankle." he knelt beside her feet, took off her boot and examined the wound. "John, where are the blasted boys? She is going to bleed out on me before they get here," he shouted, without lifting his head.

Rosa turned to him.

"I feel fine," she said and closed her eyes, that seemed suddenly too heavy to stay open.

"No, no no," Robin said desperately, cradling her, "don't fall asleep, stay with me, d'you hear?"

"I am sorry," she whispered, her voice fading, "for the things I said to you, that's why I came to find you. Don't be angry."

"John!" Robin shouted. "Help me."

John climbed down and together they managed to tie up the wound so that the bleeding was less.

Then Robin took her in his arms and started walking purposefully.

"Chief, you can't carry her all the way to the camp," John protested, sighing.

"Watch me," Robin said simply.

"Master, you're cold," Rosa said, watching the way his drenched shirt clung to his chest, which was panting. "You're shaking."

"I'm not cold, little one," he replied, looking down at her, with a sudden tenderness in his eyes. "I'm frightened."

Right at that moment, Much arrived with the two horses in tow.

Robin rode like a madman and it seemed to Rosa that the next minute she was in a warm bed, with warm clothes and her ankle bandaged properly.

It was dark night outside.

Robin was still at her side, still soaked through.

"My only consolation," he was saying to Much, while surveying the scratches on her neck and chin through dangerously dark eyes, "is that Julian's worry may kill him before I have the chance to."

"You are scaring her, chief," Much replied kindly, nodding towards her.

"Paul, she's awake," Robin said immediately.

Paul told her to stay awake for as long as her exhaustion would let her and left after ordering Robin to get into dry clothes.

"Excuse me," Robin said to Rosa as soon as they were left alone in her little cabin and got up. He went to the corner and Rosa had just enough time to avert her eyes before he stripped down and rubbed the water off his skin with a fur.

He came back to her, fully dressed, his hair hanging in wet locks over his forehead and ears. His eyes were absolutely smoldering with anger.

"You _are_ angry," Rosa said.

"Angry? I am livid!" he exploded. "Livid! What are you doing back here in the forest for one thing? And alone? I mean, you have done stupid things before, but this takes the cake."

Rosa was silent, waiting for him to vent his feelings. Robin got up suddenly, as though the small room couldn't contain his anger.

"That moment when I realized the boy was you," Robin went on, bringing his first to his mouth, "and when I saw you going under I… I couldn't take it, I thought I would die. I…" he stopped to catch his breath, closing his eyes. "I vowed I would stay under there until I found you, or drowned with you myself."

"Master, please…"

He lifted a hand to interrupt her and then he realized what she had said.

"Are you still calling me that?" he asked, almost smiling. "Or are you afraid of me?"

"I am a little, right now," she admitted.

He knelt on one knee next to her and brushed a finger along her lips.

"You should be," he said softly, all trace of anger leaving his voice abruptly, "you should be afraid of me, my rose. Because even though I am so mad at you for what you did, for actually coming back to the forest, alone and weak like this, and putting yourself in danger, without even talking to me first about such an important matter that endangers…" he stopped himself, and smiled, a tight pained smile. "Forgive me," he said. "I do not mean to preach at you. God knows I owe my life to you ten times over. What I wanted to say was..."

"What?" she asked in a whisper, mesmerized by his voice.

"What I wanted to say," he continued, stroking her hair absent-mindedly, "was that even though I am so mad at you, I am also madly happy that you are here. My heart leapt at the sight of you, and still does, even though I am sorry that you are in pain."

"Master," Rosa said, her voice sounding a bit breathless, "Robin," she added, "I knew it wasn't a very intelligent idea at the time, but I was so lost and I thought I would feel better if I came here to beg your forgiveness."

He shook his head immediately.

"You were lost?" he whispered hoarsely. "I left you alone, didn't I? Again."

"I am not lost anymore," she said simply.

Robin took her fingers in a tight clasp and leaned close.

"Say it," he said, his lips trembling. "Say that you'll stay."

"I will stay, if you will have me," she answered with no hesitation. "But first I have to go back because my brother…"

Robin smiled ruefully.

"I may have said I hope the guilt kills him, but I didn't really mean it, my rose. John is on his way right now to bring him here."

"Thank you," Rosa breathed, reaching out her hand to his arm and he couldn't help but take her in his arms with a force that took even him by surprise. His arms, starved for a touch of her, wanted to touch her everywhere, but he knew he had to be careful with her after her ordeal.

He held her against his heart, his own beating like crazy, and pressed his lips to the tender spot between her neck and her chin, trying to check himself from devouring her lips. He took a deep breath.

"I am yours," he said. "I am yours already. Marry me."

She drew back and his heart stopped. He took in the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin.

"Maybe this is not the time…" he said, beginning to get up.

"Do you mean it?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.

He took her arms in his hands and held her tenderly.

"My Rosa, my heart," he said, the words coming out with difficulty, because his lips were trembling, and he was feeling the tears stinging his eyes. He didn't try to wipe them away.

"I will not hold you back, Robin," she said, and there were tears in her eyes also, but her voice was full of force and determination. "What you are doing is bigger than both of us, and I refuse to be the one to hold back your work…"

"I know, my precious girl, I know" he said, smiling and crying at the same time. "So, yes? You will marry me?" he searched her eyes for the answer.

She nodded, hiding her face in his chest.

"Don't cry," he said softly. "I will do my damnedest to make you happy, I swear."

She laughed through her tears.

He pulled her away in order to look into her eyes.

"One week from today," he said, his voice serious. "I'll go speak to father Tuck."

He got up, but Rosa was still holding his hand, so he knelt again. He looked into her eyes and laughed. It felt so good to be able to laugh again after all this despair and pain. It felt so good to have a reason to laugh.

"You know if I were to kiss you now I wouldn't be able to stop," he said, his eyes wrinkling with tenderness.

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she asked, her eyelids drooping

He nodded yes, unable to speak, silent tears of happiness running down her cheeks.

Julian and Little John arrived at the camp near dawn.

Julian was a little surprised when Robin ran to him, without warning, and enveloped him in a painfully enthusiastic hug.

"We are going to be brothers," he informed him, "surely I am dreaming. Surely this is too much happiness."

As it turned out, he was right.

Before the week was out, one day as Rosa was sitting in the sunshine daydreaming, Will Scarlet game gasping and blew Robin's horn to gather all the men.

The news he brought from the town were bad.

The whole of Nottingham was ablaze with it. The Sheriff of Nottingham, the great tax collector, the oppressor, the law enforcer, the feast provider, was dead.

Fallen at the hand of the notorious outlaw, known as Robin of the Hood.

.


End file.
